


Dismantle the Sun

by Eravalefantasy



Series: Nothing Like the Sun [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eravalefantasy/pseuds/Eravalefantasy
Summary: If you could see your life from start to finish, would you change it? Cullen prepares for his final step-the vigil all Templars must undertake. With each passing hour, Cullen is tested, his visions reveal the path the Maker has set before him.





	1. Introduction and Hour One

“If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change it?” Barclay’s empty stare troubled Cullen.

Unsure how to respond, Cullen attempted to offer comfort. “My friend, only the Maker can know the path set for each of us. If it is his will, we must accept it.” Barclay changed after his vigil three nights prior. He’d become sullen, withdrawn and uncharacteristically contemplative. “You’ve been selected to serve in Ferelden’s Circle, you must prepare.” Cullen’s attempt to bolster his friend’s confidence failed.

Many of his fellow recruits had completed their vigil. Cullen had overheard a conversation between several senior ranking Templars. Their complaint centered on the increase in withdrawals over the last few years. Cullen couldn’t quite follow, but he had witnessed several recruits abandoning their training and leaving the Templars within hours of their vigil.

This strange affliction of melancholy and sadness spread from recruit to recruit; their weakened resolve seemed an odd side effect to completing their training. “You didn’t answer my question, Cullen. Although I will assume you will surpass all of us even through your vigil. Perfection in all things, isn’t that right, Cullen?” The Templar squeezed the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tight as if to block out even the soft light of the candles. “I apologize. I am . . .tired.”

Barclay’s apology, weak and perfunctory ignited Cullen’s curiosity. “There is no need to apologize, my friend. Although I cannot help but ask–what happened in your vigil? Surely the Maker-“

A harsh laugh cut Cullen’s words off. “Another time.”

Despite his reluctance to leave, quiet footsteps carried Cullen to the door. Barclay turned and called after him. “You would do well to remember my question. You face your vigil tonight. Maker watch over you.”

Somewhere deep within the Templar’s stronghold, the Chant intoned by a select few filled the halls. Cullen had lent his voice prior nights to honor his friends without concern, but his thoughts strayed, wondering how long he would wait before called to face his final step.

 _If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change it? A strange question, indeed_ , Cullen thought. _I will accept the path the Maker sets for me._ He waited in quiet contemplation, listening to the words of Benedictions carry him through impatience into rest.

A gentle hand on his arm announced Cullen’s wait at an end. “Are you prepared, Rutherford?” Cullen opened his eyes to see his Knight-Captain. “Follow me.”

The Canticle of Benedictions carried Cullen through the darkened halls, empty of all except for his Knight-Captain.

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written._

“In here, Rutherford. Maker turn his gaze on you.” The Knight-Captain held the door for Cullen. Before Cullen could ask for orders, the door closed, leaving him in silence.

Confident steps carried him further into the room. Candles burned casting dim light and wavering shadows against the walls. A padded kneeler set near the window, offered the only place to rest. _A vigil_ , Cullen recalled, _the Knight Captain told us we’d learn of the Maker’s will_. Cullen knelt, clasped his hands together and prayed.

____________

Hour One: _O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights._

 _Run, damn you. Forget her and forget the mages._ Uncertainty filled his thoughts and fear gripped Cullen, his body shaking with each step. “Maker’s Breath! Have they all gone mad?” He clutched the swinging door of the dorm room, searching the faces praying that one was not among them. _Where are you?_

The horror of the night’s events unfolded in macabre heaps of fallen bodies. Wherever Cullen investigated, he found not one spared–mages and Templars alike. He’d been searching for Solona when the madness exploded and the information provided to him by one instructor indicated she’d been in the storage rooms at last sighting. Cullen’s compulsion to find her overtook his sensibility and self-preservation. One of the newer recruits, his name unknown to Cullen, shouted for him to come away. “They’re lost! We must leave!” Looking to Cullen for reassurance and finding none, the young Templar left him standing alone.

 _The mages are our responsibility. Solona is my responsibility, I promised to look out for her._ Her usual destination materialized in his thoughts, he’d need to check the library. Cullen moved with purpose giving a cursory review to each room. He found Barclay and four others near the library entrance.

“Cullen, thank the Maker.” Barclay explained what he’d discovered. Uldred had kidnapped Irving and other Senior Enchanters on the top floor. The demons kept coming at them no matter what the Templars tried. Whenever they’d clear a room, within minutes more would appear. Shouts and explosions sounded beyond the library doors. “We need to look for the others,” Barclay nodded towards the library door.

Cullen understood. Barclay searched for Templars, the Circle had fallen to corruption. “Then the Circle is lost and we must stop the mages,” Cullen said. A fleeting image of Solona crossed his mind. _Yes, even her_ , he thought, _Maker forgive me, but I cannot allow any of them to leave._ He asked for the support of those standing on the stairs. The Templars pledged to follow him into battle, for Cullen saw this as a battle against magic and corruption. 

Shields at the ready the Templars entered in tight formation, each protecting the other. Cullen cleared the field of all enchantments prompting frustrated groans as mages, unable to strike back lunged at the Templars.

“Cullen, you can’t show mercy!” One other yelled, cutting down the young apprentice as she swung a dagger toward him.

Moving apart from the group, he found several mages cowering together. “Run, find a place to hide. I assure you, there is no other way.” He swung his sword in the direction of the far exit. “If I find you again, there will be no second chance.”  Cullen continued around the next aisle to see a font void of water. Turning from the font, a young woman lay still, her knees tucked up near her chest; her blonde hair a mass of tangled curls. He’d dreamt of those curls falling on his face, holding her tight–the two of them on a different path.

The fight between the mages and his Templar brothers raged on, the sound diminishing with the ever-increasing thudding of his heart. “Solona?” Cullen called to Solona once, even knowing she did not breathe he called her name again; somehow expecting her to brush the hair from her face and grin to make him smile or tease him into stammering away until his face burned bright, but the body before him lay cold and still. He’d return for her once the crisis ended. He owed her that much. Sorrow exploded into anger, Cullen swore to take down every mage and see the tower burnt to ashes. Refusing to believe Solona played a role, he counted her among the betrayed. 

With each step closer to their goal, Cullen’s hatred bloomed. _Curse them all, every blood mage_. He would see the tower cleansed of corruption.

_______

_Somewhere a bell tolled. The violent images and tightness in his chest diminished, releasing him from their grasp.  Eyes, fluttered, expecting to see carnage and destruction, but the vigil room offered the same serenity and quiet as when he first entered. “Maker’s breath. What did I see?” Cullen shifted to listen for the chime once again, unsure if the images afflicting him were vision or an onset of madness, Cullen clasped his hands tighter, hands white from the effort. The foul smell of tallow wax countered with the heady smell of incense carried him into his second hour._


	2. Hour Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second hour: Kirkwall

Hour Two:  _Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places._

_The words washed over him as waves crashing upon an empty shore, the pungent smell of the sea filling his nostrils. Gripping the pedestal, the sway and lurch of his stomach forced his eyes open to find he still kneeled within the room many miles from the sea. His eyes closed again as a sea bird squawked and the vision took hold._

Kirkwall flowed unlike any place Cullen had known. The streets filled each morning as Kirkwall awakened to commerce and conversation -a welcome change from his life in Ferelden. Cullen had lost a part of his soul at the Circle, but gained a resolve to see mages properly controlled.  Kirkwall would not be as lenient as the Circle. He would honor the memory of those he could not save by giving Kirkwall the structure and control it required.

Knight Commander Meredith understood. She’d welcomed Cullen to Kirkwall as her second in command. They shared a deep distrust of magic and mages and Meredith looked to Cullen to carry her message through the ranks.

“I want it understood; we are in control of Kirkwall.” Cullen shifted on his feet.

“Knight Commander?” Cullen would not dare to correct his commanding officer, but he’d held to the belief the Chantry held ultimate rule.

He stiffened; her harsh stare piercing what little remained of his empathy. “You have seen what mages can do if left unchecked, Cullen. Templars must not allow mages any quarter. They are not your friends, they are not like the good citizens of this city; mages are one step from abomination and as such it is our responsibility to guarantee the safety of those we deem worthy.”

Some part of her words repulsed him. _Are not all creatures worthy in the Maker’s eyes?_ He wondered if his assignment here had been a grievous mistake. The image of Solona’s lifeless form, and him helpless to do anything but carry her body with the others steeled his nerves. _Never again will I allow a mage to take an innocent life._ His affirmation strengthened his nerves, sending staunch orders through to his limbs. Cullen stood straighter, his confidence filling the cavernous holes left by the fall of Kinloch Hold.

“Well, Knight Captain Cullen have you no thoughts on the matter?” Meredith waited for a response.

His stance snapped to full attention, burying the remnants of his compassion. “None. I am in complete agreement Knight Commander. Kirkwall is our city.”

__________

Cullen stood watch in the Gallows, his shift nearing its end.  A heavy hand slapped his shoulder, “Come on, Knight Captain. You promised. My sister arrives, and you promised to meet her.”

“I’m still on duty Aidan and thank you not to do that in public.” Cullen hid his smile. Aidan Trevelyan had declared the two friends upon his arrival four years prior. His goal had been to teach Cullen how to enjoy Kirkwall without burying his nose in books.

A dramatic sigh and rolling eyes on Aidan’s part loosened Cullen’s unshakeable stance. “Do not keep family waiting, Aidan. When I am relieved, I will join you as discussed, but I fail to see why your sister would need to meet me.”

“Cullen, you need a break. Valerie is a Seeker, she served as a Templar until she was recruited and both of you need a dose of fun and that’s where this little evening takes over.” Aidan sighed. “You’ll both likely join forces to point out my deficiencies. I’m sure that in itself has some appeal.”

Swallowing his displeasure, Cullen agreed and waited for his replacement.  His focus returned to the gathering throng of citizens milling about; he never quite understood the appeal of meeting at the Gallows given the large number of Templars who chatted between shifts or the constant flow of patrols in and out of the square. Cullen often wondered if the unsavory used plain sight to hide their endeavors.

 A glint of armor caught his attention at the entrance to the Gallows.  The cloaked traveler covered their armor and slipped into a small crowd near the entrance. Cullen’s awareness sharpened. Unable to leave his post, he focused his eyes along the periphery of the crowd, searching for the dust-covered brown cloak.

The figure moved behind a pillar, his profile hidden by a heavy hood. Cullen watched the man remove a glove exposing slender fingers, leveraging the possibility his target might be. . .a woman. Average height, perhaps, he guessed her a head shorter than himself. Craning his neck, he hoped to learn more without alerting the woman to his awareness of her.

He wondered if the Crows employed women, her ability to stay hidden implied advanced training. A tanned hand pulled down the heavy hood revealing a part of her face. His suspicions confirmed, Cullen stared. Her red hair tumbled in a braid as she shook a long journey from her person. Her back pressed against the post, she rested taking deep breaths.

He took several steps forward before his break in formation registered and Cullen returned to his post. Berating himself for shirking protocol, Cullen searched for his replacement; to continue his investigation, he’d need to proceed without the restraints of duty.

Secret observations ceased when a barmaid from The Hanged Man arrived searching the Gallows courtyard; he noted her pushing through the evening crowd to meet the woman behind the pillar. Curiosity again pulled the Knight Captain from his post to get a better look at the conversation unfolding in secret. When the women departed, he caught his voice before calling out to the mysterious visitor.

Sending a passing comrade to hurry his relief along, Cullen’s impatience grew as time and distance slipped between him and the woman. Despite the late arrival, Cullen skipped the lecture and surprised himself as brusque steps carried him deeper into the city.

Cullen hurried towards The Hanged Man, he’d guessed the bar to be the mystery woman’s destination. He had to discover more. The drive to talk with her and learn her tale drove him through the crowds, ignoring hails and polite greetings thrown his way. She reminded him of someone, although even through rushed steps and quick turns, his mind could not recall why this woman seemed so familiar. Entering the bar, he searched for the red-haired woman.  His zeal shrank away to see Aidan clutching her hands in his.

Chastising his foolish notions, the Knight Captain waited at the bar, pointing to a mug when the bartender asked for Cullen’s order.  Cullen sipped the ale, not tasting anything beyond the bitter sting of a missed chance.

“Cullen!” Aidan’s voice cut through the din of conversation, drunken rants and song. “You made it! Come meet Valerie, she’s as social as you so I’ll do all the talking.” His smile faded. “She’s had a rough life. Do me a favor and don’t ask her where she’s been. Talk Templar duty or the Chant or something as equally boring, all right? She goes by this nickname, Maker knows why, but-“ Aidan stopped and laughed. “Come on let’s go.”

The two set out for the table. Cullen noticed her absence first, and the abandoned drink confirmed his conclusion. Resisting the urge to search the bar, something scratched at the back of his head, a feeling of familiarity.

He returned each evening for a week to The Hanged Man, taking a seat on the right of the bar, watching and waiting.  

_________________

Even though Hawke proved to be a complete ass, Cullen couldn’t help but like him. In fact, Hawke and his crew of misfits and thieves had demonstrated their loyalty to Kirkwall–even if he was a mage.

Thanks to Hawke, the Qunari presence in Kirkwall and the devastation they caused had ended.  Cullen’s intervention in secreting Isabela away before the Qunari could find her earned Hawke’s gratitude, the favor to Hawke a shock even in the aftermath.  A favor which Cullen would now seek in return.

The sly grin on Hawke’s face caused Cullen to cringe. “Knight Captain, how lovely to see you at this late hour, without your armor–alone.”  Placing his book on the seat next to him Hawke stood. “Your lack of armor and absence of men accompanying you can mean one of two things, you wish to talk or-“

“Don’t,” Cullen snorted, “not bloody likely, Hawke.” Cullen leaned on the stairwell railing. “I’m here to collect on a favor. I fear I have let corruption flow for far too long and I cannot fix what is broken without help. The Order is-” He stopped, questioning his motives even the face of mounting proof–Meredith’s hatred and distrust, once reserved for mages alone, spread to all around her. Cullen stood by and witnessed her decline without challenge–rationalizing duty before sanity. 

Meredith allowed her thoughts to slip in his presence several nights prior; she had warned Cullen to gather the most loyal to him as Kirkwall had fallen to corruption. These words drove him to seek Hawke’s help, even if it meant acting against his superior to protect the city.

Pursed lips and a blank stare gave no sign of Hawke’s thoughts, leaving Cullen to wait in silence. “This is about Meredith,” Hawke said.

Days of clenched muscles and strained conversations threatened to unravel as Cullen found a single point of relief in the revelation that Hawke understood. “I admit my part in this madness, for my complicity I apologize.”

“Lighten up Cullen. You fucking Templars need to get the stick out of your collective-“ Hawke stopped.  “Forget I said that. She’s mad, and would rather see the city burn than see her part in its decline.”  Joining Cullen at the railing Hawke clapped his shoulder. “We need to plan and I need a drink.” 

At full dark the following day, Cullen waited with Meredith and the other Templars for Hawke to exit into the Gallows courtyard.  He’d kept silent until Meredith threatened to take Hawke’s life.

 “You betrayed me, Cullen!” Meredith spat her words, “you abandoned the Order for these. . .these miscreants!”

“Knight Commander Meredith, I relieve you of your command and place you under arrest!” Cullen’s voice, strong in power of his conviction met with Meredith’s slow and derisive laughter.

“Traitor,” her venomous words poisoning his resolve, “I will have your head.”

____________

No one spoke of Meredith’s fate. Orsino and Meredith both casualties of a world gone mad.  Hawke and most of his friends escaped Kirkwall not long after leaving Cullen to deal with a city in turmoil and a broken Order. Aidan Trevelyan departed within a year of the destruction, Cullen’s first transfer as Knight Commander. The Trevelyan family requested his presence to assist at Ostwick’s Circle, and Cullen could not deny the request.

The arrival of the Divine’s representatives did nothing to calm Cullen’s descent into self-recrimination and doubt. Orlais entangled in civil war, the clashes between mages and Templars, he wondered if Thedas no longer held the Maker’s gaze.

The Seeker’s offer weighed on his conscience. Save the Chantry, end the wars and give Thedas a fighting chance. Pacing in his office, Cullen argued with himself. “How can I leave Kirkwall and abandon the Order?” _Kirkwall will continue, even without your presence. As for the Order, the divide must be healed; only then will the Templars see reason._

“Serve the will of the Divine in this . . . what did the Lady Cassandra call it?” Cullen grabbed the parchment on his desk. “Inquisition.” _The name is unimportant, what is essential is an end to this fighting and corruption. If this Inquisition is the means to restore order, then I am for it_.

The decision made, he called in several of the men and women who’d remained in Kirkwall and explained his resolution to leave and promoted those who would stay into the proper ranks. Cullen retreated to his private room, shed his armor and left in simple clothes with his books and a few belongings.

His first sea voyage had not changed his view of traveling by boat. Cullen prepared for sleepless nights on deck. As troublesome as the idea of the sea travel sat deep within his belly, something new took root within him; the return to Ferelden occupied the empty spaces within, away for so long, avoiding any contact with his family- eventually that oversight would require resolution. He would see to his new assignment first.

 _A gull called out twice, pulling Cullen from his reverie. The vigil room sharpened once again, but the volatility of the images added to his mounting unease._ I am to suffer such pain and strife? Is this the path the Maker has set for me? Death and destruction? Is there no salvation? What of the woman? _He pushed aside the warmth in his chest at the thought of seeing her again. Sweat pooled in the small of his back, testimony his body and mind registered the assault on his senses._

_An unexpected chill moved through the vigil room, the sudden touch of cold announcing the start of Cullen’s third hour of reflection._


	3. Hour Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Templar recruit Cullen continues his vigil into the third hour where certain events in Haven reveal more of his intended path.

_Hour Three: O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You would bid me._

_The air cooled even more as the words left his lips, the feel of snow upon his cheek, winter’s scent of trees and fires blanketing the pungency from the incense and candle wax. The discordant clanging of swords and crashing of shields, coupled with his voice issuing orders and training recruits on the rigors of battle grew louder until Cullen fell within the next vision._

Haven. Were it not for the rigorous schedule, training needs and endless supply requests Cullen would have found Haven to be miserable. He’d met Sister Leliana in Ferelden years prior and again in Kirkwall, but her guarded nature and questionable methods often spurred arguments between them.

“Commander Cullen, while your experience is appreciated, I believe my scouts would best serve our needs in gathering information.” A glance in Cullen’s direction revealed the hint of displeasure on her face.  “Recruits and refugees arrive in Haven daily; your help in reviewing the skills and readiness of those arriving is far more valuable than information gathering.”

He kept silent, preferring only to nod. The Ambassador they’d recruited had shut him down earlier that morning. Cullen found that between the two women in the War Room with him and the Lady Cassandra, his presence seemed more perfunctory and less an equal part of whatever they’d created.

“Perhaps then I should oversee the preparations for the Conclave? Assign the more seasoned soldiers and Templars to the Temple?”

The pointed look between Cassandra and Leliana troubled him.  This time, Cassandra responded. She underscored much of the briefing he’d endured days earlier detailing the need for his guidance and training of the ever-increasing troops. Propriety demanded he refrains from arguing; Cullen's understanding of his role in the days and weeks leading up to the Conclave solidified his concerns. The issue centered on trust. He’d have to prove his loyalties and with the Spymaster, his readiness to lead for acceptance.

Controlled steps carried his swallowed anger out of the Chantry building. Despite his frustration, his gentle hand closed the door behind him, leaving Cullen at the entryway. A sharp inhale allowed the shock of frigid air to cleanse his lungs and mind of the stagnation he experienced in Haven. _If they’d listen for a moment_ , he thought, _there is much we could accomplish even with our limited resources._

The idea formed from deep in his mind. He would take a small contingent of soldiers to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and make their presence known; this might bolster confidence not only in his men but also in their endeavor to assist Thedas in her restoration. Lady Cassandra would not approve of his decision, but a small group led by him would have minimal impact.

____________

The Temple of the Sacred Ashes once hidden, now served as a site for pilgrimage. Cullen watched the influx of mages, Templars, representatives and clergy all converge. After hours of observation and a brief meeting with the Valo-Kas mercenaries hired to oversee security, he concluded it was time to return to Haven.  Cullen and his small group set out down the path to return when a familiar voice called to him. “Cullen? Cullen!”

He’d heard his name called several times, but halted when a firm grip clasped his shoulder. Aidan Trevelyan’s wide grin and firm handshake started him on a long outpouring of information. In civilian clothes, he’d accompanied his two sisters to the Conclave as escort.

 _Two sisters_ , Cullen thought, _the woman from Kirkwall. Aidan’s sister the Seeker traveled with him_.  

A soldier joined the conversation. “Commander, do we return to Haven as planned?”

Annoyed with the interruption Cullen barked his reply. “A moment please!” Realizing his breach in protocol, Cullen assumed a more even tone and instructed the soldier to gather the others and wait for his arrival. Despite his reluctance to leave after a few more brief exchanges the two planned to meet in Haven after the Conclave.

“See you in a few days, my friend!” Aidan shook Cullen’s hand again and disappeared into the crowd.

In time of great peril and danger, the mind and body seek protection inward. Not so for those sworn to lead in Haven - Leliana sent her scouts into the woods and up the mountain path within moments of the blinding flash. She joined Cassandra and Cullen gathering troops around them. Hurried steps of both women matching his stride, “What will you do, Commander?” No weakness or hesitation existed in the Seeker’s words; she wanted his plan without delay.

“Give me half the men, the rest stay behind with you. Let me assess the situation first, Lady Cassandra.” Cullen offered.

“Accepted, Commander. The Divine is your priority.” Cassandra shouted orders and directed civilians back to Haven.

Soldiers shouted as the three neared the gate. “Commander! A woman! She . . . appeared on the path. I saw . . .” His dazed expression concerned Cullen, but time slipped away from them and with it their chances to find the Divine.

Cullen clenched his jaw. “Out with it man! Lady Cassandra, I will leave this _woman_ to you and make way to the temple! We can delay no longer!”

“Leliana, see what you can learn.” A curt nod from the spymaster answered Cassandra’s request before she turned to Cullen. “Commander, you must hurry.”

_______________

 “We’re cut off, hold them back!” Cullen blocked the demon’s swipe with his shield and countered slashing his sword up from his left. It shrieked, maw gaping in a grotesque protest as Cullen continued his assault.

“Ser! They won’t stop coming through the hole! We need to retreat.” The soldier looked to Cullen for approval.

Barreling into the demon with his shield, Cullen grunted. “Stand and fight, man!” He lunged, slicing the creature across its chest. “You’ll not run,” he charged again, hacking away at the demon’s torso, “hold the line, we must keep them from moving towards the village!” The demon stumbled, spurring Cullen to continue his assault until the creature fell and its essence returned to the rift. He joined the frightened soldier. “Listen to me. You are stronger than these creatures. We will prevail. Will you stand with me?”

The soldier responded with several others, “Yes Ser!”  

 Cullen lifted his sword, “Prepare yourselves, the next wave begins!”

The battle between demon and man continued until Cullen glimpsed an arriving party. The terror demon dissolved with his final strike as a lone figure stood before the gaping hole. Arm outstretched, a stream of energy stretched from the figure to the rift. The rift, swallowed by the unknown force closed revealing Cassandra, Varric and several others.

He stared for a moment taking in the stranger. _Her hands_ , he recalled seeing them before, _her hair_ , he thought. _This is Valerie Trevelyan. It must be. But how?_

Several glances in her direction showed no recognition of him. _How could she? We never truly met._ Cullen sent Cassandra and the party towards the temple, leaving them to help a wounded soldier back to camp.

______

 _Don’t be ridiculous_ , Cullen chastised himself, _she’s the Herald of Andraste, the one chosen to seal the breach._ He waited in the Chantry for the Herald’s arrival. She’d woken earlier and planned to join them in the War Room.

“Why Commander, you seem out of sorts. Are you unwell?” Leliana’s dulcet tones carried a tinge of mocking that threatened to unnerve him.

“No Spymaster, eager to learn if the Herald will assist us in our endeavors as you must be.” Cullen’s non-committal reply had the opposite effect on Leliana and she continued to ask her questions, her tone carrying a hint of connotation but what, Cullen did not follow. He almost sighed in relief as the Herald entered the War Room.

Introductions made, Cullen stepped back and observed. Lady Trevelyan did not like her back to the door. She shifted to look behind her several times. Speaking to Cassandra through most of the discussion, the conversation remained civil until Leliana pushed Cullen too far. He’d responded sharply to her comment about seeking the mages help. The Herald cringed at the mention of the mages, Cullen was sure of it. He may have put more vehemence behind his reply than intended, but when the lady stormed out of the Chantry, Cullen worried he’d gone too far and resolved to keep his concerns under control in her presence.

Cassandra urged Cullen to find the Lady and request her help in training the soldiers. Valerie or Wren as the lady preferred, might prove helpful. Leliana and Josephine would push their contacts to help determine their next move.

The walk to The Singing Maiden helped Cullen organize his thoughts. He would appeal to the Lady’s sense of duty. Cullen would transform and shift his thoughts to earn her trust not her favor. If she would not know him, perhaps she would seek to know the Commander of the Inquisition and her advisor.

___________

“You hold back, my Lady Herald!” Cullen circled to her left. “Or is there nothing more?” His taunt met with a wide grin from Lady Trevelyan.

“I’m going to wipe that smirk from your face, Commander.” She laughed and advanced, their demonstration gathering more spectators. Cullen requested her help, and the lady agreed. He’d held back, not putting the full force of his body into his blocking or blows; injuring the Herald would not sit well with Lady Cassandra and the other advisors. She fought well, not always taking the logical route or the convenient hit. He suspected a minor weak spot on her left side and sought to test his theory.

A downward slash and quick slice to her shield arm confirmed his suspicion. Either she’d chosen a shield too heavy for her to balance, or he had found her weakness. Her narrowed gaze suggested the latter.

Part of his pride wanted to win, but his common sense urged him to withhold his true strength. When the Lady unbalanced him, his wounded hubris increased the force of his blows; the match teetered in Cullen’s favor until the lady turned her body into a slash meant for her shield. Wide eyes and shock held his blade; her pain evident in a scrunched brow and sharp exhale. “What are you doing?” He asked, worried her injury might be severe.

“Distracting you!” The lady traded blows with Cullen until a metal shield connected with his chin ending their match.

_Reaching up to rub his chin, the welt and cut he’d felt seconds before did not exist. Cullen struggled to stand, muscles rebelled and legs wobbled. “What deception is this? To see and hear, to feel each touch without leaving this room?”_

_A step toward the door and a pointed stare questioned his devotion. Dismissing his weakness, Cullen returned to the kneeler. “Then test me, if that is your will. I will endure it.”  The response immediate- agonizing stabs behind his eyes and an ever-tightening grip on his temples. Musty scents of old books and parchment filled his nostrils and gust of cool air swirled around him. Another scent hidden, buried underneath the others but familiar; feminine in nature, a mix of milled grains and subtle florals ushered Cullen into his fourth hour._


	4. Hour Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the fourth hour of Cullen's journey, Skyhold reveals the future of his time with the Inquisition.

Hour four: _Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat._

_The earlier sting in his chin dissipated, leaving Cullen in wonder of the scenes playing for him alone. He wondered if he’d ingested some herb or potion but searching his memory of his preparation found no evidence he’d ingested anything unknown. A new warmth filled his chest despite a nip of cold air on his nose and earlobes.  Trying to identify the feeling set his mind in motion, unable to name what he experienced. Cullen called it contentment. Settling in, a milder ache in his head pushed aside for the growing anticipation and excitement welling inside him._

“I believe it’s your move, Val.” Cullen smirked looking at the game board. He’d win this match. She’d been distracted through the entire game, no logic to moving her pieces, just rash reactions to each of his moves. _Much as she moves through life_ , he mused. 

His smugness changed to disbelief as a simple move of her battalion piece altered the outcome of his meticulously planned game.

“Is there a problem Cullen, you look a bit confused?” She flicked her eyes to meet his, wide with awe, her own grin spreading as she leaned back into the chair.

“That should not have been possible." Cullen held back his frown, almost sure her tactic had to be an illegal move and not a shift in her favor.

Valerie toyed with a game piece in her hands. “You’re a terrible loser, Cullen.”

He shifted in his chair, unwilling to concede. “I haven’t lost yet, Inquisitor.”

Placing the piece on the table, she scooted her chair closer. “Well then, Commander, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Until this point, the flow of their games had often been fast and no question to the winner. Cullen could not rely on conventional game theory and his preferred tactics. Valerie’s countermoves fit no known pattern leading Cullen to use distraction to his advantage. “I feel I should tell you Cassandra would like me to be more involved with your decisions in the field.”

She chewed on her thumb, looking over the game board. He’d seen that tell before. She wasn’t sure of her next move. The corner of Cullen’s mouth raised a fraction.

“Cassandra worries more than my mother,” Valerie scoffed, “but if you wish to be _involved_ with me, you should ask me, Cullen. I wasn’t aware Cassandra governed my free time.”  Her focus shifted from the game board to Cullen’s reddening face.  “Remember, if you wish to use distractions make sure your opponent does not know of your weakness.”  She moved one piece forward sealing the match in her favor. She met his eyes full, and with a slight lean in his direction, Valerie smiled. “I win.”

_____________

Books toppled from the force of Cullen’s blow, his face contorted in anger and frustration; the scowl on his face etched deep.

“Is that the pain or your pride talking, Cullen?” Valerie asked, placing her hand on his arm. “You’re stronger than this. Remember, there’s only room for one of us to be quite mad.” Valerie searched his face meeting his eyes with a softness reserved for him alone.

The tension in his arms and shoulders loosened. “You deserve better.”

“Enough, Cullen. No lyrium- not now, not ever.” She checked the doors and locked them before returning to face him. “Understand this; lyrium is not in control of you. Together we can work through the pain. Promise me you will not look to lyrium again.”

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “Val, it’s not that simple.”

“You’re right, it’s not simple.  Promise me.” Her defiant glare and crossed arms gave him no room to negotiate.

“Val, I’ve already spoken with Cassandra,” he explained. “She will . . .watch me and if my ability to lead is compromised-”

Cullen could see Valerie thinking through his words. “The decision to remove you is mine, not Cassandra’s. I will consider her recommendation but I’ve yet to listen to her all these years and don’t expect to start now. So, I regret to inform you _Commander_ , you are most certainly required to maintain your post and carry out your duties as expected.” Moving towards the center exit, she looked back at him. “Oh and Commander, meet me at the Rest after sundown. Don’t be late.” She winked and continued out onto the walkway.

__________

Skyhold in the pre-dawn hours offered Cullen perfect contemplation. The walk along the ramparts gave him much needed to time for himself before Skyhold woke and expected the Commander in his office.  Cullen blamed his early rising on Leliana’s infernal birds, the lot of them always squawking atop the tower of his room.  He’d suspected them trained to do so.

The walk this morning caused by an overactive mind, not the feathered pests. A letter lay unopened still hidden in the pocket of his mantle.

He hadn’t expected a response at all. Cullen’s intentions had been on the side of propriety; writing to Valerie’s family had been a formality, he wished to continue a personal relationship and even with nothing to offer her, propriety demanded the introduction.  Cullen could not break the seal and read the contents since the letter arrived months prior.

The influence of Valerie’s presence and its impact on him could no longer be dismissed. After her near fatal injury in the Emerald Graves, Cullen’s concerns multiplied.  The prospect of losing her entirely had loosened his rigid and sterile view of his emotions. 

Nods and quiet greetings passed between Cullen and the watch as his walk took him towards the far tower.  Valerie had dedicated the structure’s renovations to the Templars and Cullen wondered if it had been a subtle nod to him.  

He hurried up the ladder to enjoy an hour or two of silence. The presence of another froze him on the ladder. A light laugh set a flutter in his chest. “I thought you might be up here, so I thought to wait.” Valerie turned and offered her hand. “Begging the Commander’s pardon, I thought a little company might be agreeable.”

A quick exhale to steady his surprise turned to soft joy at seeing Valerie. “Agreeable? I was just thinking of you.”  Accepting the offered hand, Cullen stepped up to his favorite view of Skyhold, but the moment she rested against him, it passed into a forgotten goal. “Tomorrow then.” His words whispered as if speaking them too loud would speed time.

“Yes,” Valerie said, “tomorrow. Can we speak of something else?”

Cullen wondered what possible topic could take her mind off their foe. “What would help you forget?”

Her grip on his arms tightened. “If you knew the outcome and could change it, would you? If you could change someone’s life for the better could you change your fate?”

Cullen stiffened. The image of a small room bathed in candlelight from pungent tallow wax candles sharpened in his thoughts. Was he still forbidden to speak of it? A strained bitterness coated his tongue. “No, I would not.”

She turned and buried her face and hugged her body to his. “Cullen, I need to tell you something and it will sound mad, but you have to listen.” Pulling away from him, saddened eyes stared into his.

 He couldn’t allow her to continue. He’d never spoken of his vigil to anyone, least of all Valerie. “No, I don’t have to listen. I know.”

_Cullen vision blurred, and the soft light of the vigil room replaced the budding sunrise of the moment before.   He rubbed his face, feeling the years he had not lived but seen instead and even in their fleeting memories he no longer felt to be a man of eighteen years; he’d aged somehow in the revelations of what awaited him._

_Concern and fear had given way to curiosity and a steadfast desire to see his life continue. Dismissing the fatigue settling within him as an after effect of the vigil, Cullen recited the next line aloud. “My Maker. . .know my heart and take from me a life of sorrow.”_

_The snap of frigid air he expected did not disappoint, although its potency less than before, Cullen waited for signs of his destination. Steps echoed in halls grown empty, the bustle of an army nearly silent. Voices carry, but now so few and discernable Cullen eases into his fifth hour._


	5. Hour Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Windows of time open for Cullen in his Templar vigil, in hour five, the Inquisition winds down giving Cullen a glimpse of his life that will change everything.

_Hour five: My Maker, know my heart: Take from me a life of sorrow._

_What is essential and familiar changes with time for Cullen. His awareness of the years, his person and those around him alters as the vision deepens.  The stretch of his gloved hand resting on the pommel of his sword offers balance, a scent of dry wood and sweet earth Cullen recognizes as his own is his comfort and underneath all, the anticipation of what is to come._

Cullen listened to Cassandra sigh for no less than ten times while they waited for Valerie in the War Room. A quick glance to Leliana, her gloved hand covering a smirk confirmed his hunch. Valerie was late again–likely engaged in yet another sparring match in the courtyard and as usual had lost track of the time. Those gathered heard the clomping run of a person hurrying towards the War Room. Cullen bit his bottom lip to stave off the grin insisting on revealing itself. Cassandra scoffed watching the Commander and Spymaster react to the Inquisitor’s tardiness.

“Must you both encourage this . . . behavior?” Cassandra crossed her arms completing the picture of total annoyance. Cullen coughed to hide his laughter as the door opened. “Thank you for joining us Valerie, shall we begin?” Valerie’s choice to ignore Cassandra’s remark did nothing for the advisers forced to bear witness to another friendly battle of wills.

Cullen tried to grab Valerie’s attention with his eyes but a quick wink told him she planned to enjoy teasing Cassandra. The delicate balance of propriety and the sheer joy Valerie’s love of life had instilled him occupied his thoughts while Valerie teased and goaded Cassandra. He knew better than to defend either position. Friends for many years, the two would often spar in this verbal fashion to see who could outlast the other; even as Thedas recovered in the aftermath, the Inquisition would continue their work, and he would remain at Valerie’s side as long as she would have him.

Cassandra paced as she outlined the work that lay ahead for them; there was much Thedas required, and the Inquisition possessed the strength and resources to act on behalf of the people. Valerie agreed, she’d confessed as much to Cullen.

While his attention appeared fixed on the conversation, he and the others had learned over the past few years to remain neutral whenever Cassandra took over a meeting. She’d leave within a few days to assume responsibilities as the newly appointed Divine and had taken every opportunity to inundate the War Council with all her plans and expectations for the Inquisition in her absence.

When an argument escalated between Cassandra and Valerie, the rise in tension set his teeth on edge. A quick glance right and left to the others revealed much the same feeling.  Risking his neutrality, Cullen interrupted.

“Forgive the intrusion, but Lady Josephine, you look unwell, perhaps some air?” He offered his hand, which Josephine gladly accepted, her eyes reflecting relief.

A simple nod from the Ambassador and a feigned weak wobble brought Leliana to her. “Excuse us, I will return once Josie is settled, please continue.”

The three walked through the hall into Josephine’s office, Leliana leading the way.  

“Very smooth, Josie. Hold that thought for I expect,” she pointed toward the War Room, “this round belongs to Valerie.”

The loud scoff and stamping footfalls announced the Lady Cassandra, Cullen concluded. “On your guard,” he whispered, “she comes.” The three scrambled in the office. Josephine to her desk chair, Leliana sorting through papers and Cullen snatched a book and opened it. Cassandra glared at the trio, forcing Cullen to look down at the opened tome in his hands. It was then he realized in his haste, the book lay upside down.

_________

“It was then I realized the book lay upside down,” he said, wrapping his arms around Valerie, “will you at least explain what this little spat was about?”

A single step backward loosened his embrace, the act eliciting a slight frown. When she looked down at the floor and sighed, his stomach and heart dropped. “She asked me to be the Right Hand.”

Relief pumped through him, and a smile overtook his earlier concerns. “Val, it is an honor and so deserved.” Soft steps back and forth allowed him to think and talk. “You’d of course have to curb your love of torturing Cassandra, that wouldn’t be prudent. I can think of no other who would carry out the will of the Divine with such strength and dedication, Val.” Cullen reached out, expecting her hand to find his. “Val?”  Struck by the sudden change in her presence, Valerie appeared almost vulnerable standing alone. One hand clutched her shoulder, the other rested on her waist. He found her posture disturbing and hesitated before calling her name again.

Shaking her head without looking at Cullen, soft words tugged at him. “I’ve given enough. You’ve given enough. We promised once the Inquisition ended then time was ours; if I do this, we lose.” She turned away from him, and hasty steps carried her to the balcony.

Cullen understood. Valerie hated tears. She could not allow others to see her weakness; it had always been so, and with Cullen even more. Allowing her time, he shed his mantle and breastplate and then joined her; Cullen stood close enough to touch his fingers to hers on the railing. The urge to gather her close and console her grew stronger as they stood in silence, but he waited until Valerie’s trembling voice addressed him.

“Our time. No more sacrifice, Cullen. No more.” She leaned against him. “Cassandra wants me to leave with her tomorrow. A completely new life of service and sacrifice. . . when what I want is to be Valerie. If I am the Right Hand, then there is no us, Cullen.”

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Oh?”

“I know of our obligations to the Inquisition, but could you ever. . .Cullen, come with me to Ostwick.”

The struggle to utter the one phrase he’d practiced in the mirror, in his office, on every walk and horseback ride they’d taken in the past eighteen months refused to surface. There were so many perfect moments he’d missed before, his thoughts asked it repeatedly waiting for another, and here was that chance -just the two of them and nothing more fell from his lips but a simple acknowledgement and response. “Of course.” 

___________

“Now? Here? I think you’ve been kneeling too long playing with that mabari and all the blood has rushed from your head.”

“Somehow that is not the response I’d hope for, Valerie,” Cullen said looking away. 

She scoffed. “Not the response you’d hoped for. . .Cullen, we’re here because these people look on me and the Inquisition as . . .criminals who need to answer for crimes committed. They mean to disband us or lump us together with the military.”

The deepening tinge on her cheeks and rapid blinks in succession told a very different story from her words. Cullen knew Valerie. Every tick, every tell and tactic she’d used to dissuade, misdirect and pretend with him. “I know, but marry me, Valerie. Now. Here.”

“Fine,” Val said.

“Fine? I ask you to marry me and that’s your response?” Cullen teased.

Wagging her finger in his direction, Valerie responded. “Point of order, Commander Cullen. You didn’t ask .  . .’marry me’. . .a demand if I’ve ever heard one. I’ve heard more romance spill from your lips in calibration specifications.”

Cullen stepped back and rubbed his neck. “You’re right. I’d planned something more appropriate.”

“Should I ask how long you’ve been planning this ‘something more appropriate’? Let me guess-longer than you should admit?”

He laughed every word the truth. “Yes, well. Valerie, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Cullen. I suppose,” she grinned.

_His vision darkened and sunlight skies and beautiful gardens gave way to a darkened room. Cullen fell to his left, finding cold stone and the vigil room again. “Maker’s breath!” He exclaimed, his heart beating strong and fast. “A wife?” He couldn’t deny the swell of joy slowly dissipating as the vision faded. Love flowed between them, he felt such a strong connection to the woman in his vision, as if they bound by something more than he could explain. “Is this what Barclay meant? I am seeing my life, glimpses of time. Is this. . .what is to come?”_

_He shivered, his eyes adjusting to the low light. None of the candles burned, a strange occurrence, as many still stood tall in their holders. “Were I superstitious, this sudden darkness would be an ill omen -a sign of suffering and strife.” A dim torch still burned on the far wall, allowing Cullen to light the candles in the vigil room. The act of bringing light to his darkened room transformed from need to a task he loathed. “How many more are there? If I am to be at peace and yet forced to care for the condition of the room–what purpose does it serve?”_

_The simple act of breathing in and out distorted for him, altered into a forced act to keep Cullen moving towards the kneeler. The burden increasing and weighing him down until the walls shrank around him, announcing the sixth hour._


	6. Hour Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has seen the dangers and difficulties awaiting him if he accepts the path of the Templar. The sixth hour brings him closer to the darkest time awaiting him in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced suicide attempt

_Hour six: Lift me from a world of pain. Judge me worthy of Your endless pride._

_Cullen’s clasped hands and muttered prayer did little to ease the rising dread. The dissonant crackle of magic at its work sounded around him until overshadowed by a howl of pain. Her pain. The heaviness in his chest, the overburdening of his body and mind and the darkness behind his closed eyes guided him into his vision._

Cullen did not run, but he wove through the halls at such speed, the man behind him struggled to reach him. “Cullen, do not run from me! Where are you going? Valerie needs you!”

He turned, face slick with tears and twisted in anger. “A moment, Dorian. I can’t do this!”

Mocking laughter and a derisive sneer broke through Cullen’s uncertainty. “You can’t do this?  No Cullen; this is not up for discussion. Your _wife_ lies in agony and you run? This is not who you are!” Dorian’s expression softened, “She needs you Cullen. You. Please come back.” Dorian waited. 

Shaking his head back and forth, Cullen paced. “I know Valerie, Dorian. She asked to die, not take her arm.”

The mage’s shoulders fell and saddened eyes met Cullen’s fear. “We had to stop whatever the Mark or Solas - whichever injured her - Cullen. She would not have survived.”

Jaw set and hands balled to fists, Cullen’s whispered words carried anger, frustration and truth. “then you should have respected her wishes.”

Dorian reared back, shocked at Cullen’s admission. “I will ignore your words Cullen. Listen to _my_ words and see if they will break through whatever madness has taken control of you.”

Refusing to face his friend, Cullen conceded. “Dorian, this isn’t about what you want. I know Valerie. All of you ignored her wishes again -all of you so good at deciding what is best, and none of you considering her in the decision.” Cullen looked back over his shoulder. “It wasn’t your choice to make. I can’t be a part of this.”

“My friend, this is what marriage is–what did you think it would be? Do you love her? Did you ever care for Valerie or just for the office of Inquisitor?”

Anger surged, a lesser man would have directed his wrath to the man in front of him, but Cullen turned and pushed Dorian aside to return to Valerie. He entered to find the room filled with all her companions and Valerie facing away, grasping her upper arm. When Cullen cleared his throat, voices all spoke at once.

Ignoring all, he ordered everyone out of the room and sat next to her; surprised as she leaned into him. “Help me through the Council and then-” Valerie sighed. “I won’t hold you. You don’t have to stay.”

“If I stay–wife- then what?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not . . . I won’t lead the Inquisition. Not now–not like this. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. Take over for me.” Valerie asked, not facing him.

A way out. A simple transaction offered–the Inquisition and leadership in place of life with her.

“No. It’s time to let the Inquisition pass into history and try living on a new path,” Cullen said.

Valerie shifted to face him, and in that moment, her left arm swung free. He could see the bandage marking the cut made to her arm. His breath caught. Years of training and the sight of serious injury allowed him to breathe slowly, pushing away the image of the deep red color to the skin of her arm. Pity filled his mind first, but the woman before him would never accept pity, even from him. Cullen focused on her hopeful eyes and ignored the pull of curiosity.

For a moment Cullen wondered if even his glance had been too long, Careful not to crush her injured arm, gentle arms guided her toward him. Once together, he felt her muscles relax.

Valerie reached for Cullen’s hand, threading her fingers through his.  “What are you trying to say? Val and Cullen walk away from everything they worked so hard to build?”

He leaned and pressed his lips against her forehead, another kiss to the tip of her nose. “How about Val and Cullen live for themselves and let Thedas sort itself out?”

 “That could work,” she whispered, “will you stay with me?”

“Always,” he whispered.

__________

 “I need to secure the horses, Valerie.” Cullen kept a soft tone, not wishing to antagonize her. She read his journal aloud, expecting to find scorn and anger. Instead, she sat at the table in a daze; a blank stare directed at the bound book resting on the table. “Wait here and I’ll help you.”

His task would take no time to complete, shuttering the windows in the barn and stable, refilling the water trough and then securing the large doors. Entering the house, the chair where she had waited sat empty. Cullen resisted the urge to sigh at Valerie’s impatience noticing hints to a larger mess. Parchment, quills and coins littered the floor, and turning to look behind the wall he gasped.

Drawers teetered, pulled almost to their end and hung in impossible angles. Cullen bent down, picking up everything in reach. A sudden thought froze his movement. _The key_.  Month’s prior when Valerie’s outbursts intensified, Cullen gathered mementos and weapons alike, securing them in a large armoire and locked it, keeping the only key in his desk.  Denial and doubt held him still; Cullen believed Valerie would not seek the armoire’s contents.

The silence in their home convinced him to check. Hairs on his neck stood on end, a shiver moving up his spine as he turned around. At first glance, Cullen’s mind showed him a closed armoire until the folly of his hopes stood revealed by open doors and empty spaces on the shelves. The image of the locked armoire in his thoughts filled in the spaces. “She’s taken the daggers! Maker’s breath!”

Taking the stairs two at a time and calling out to Valerie–images of horror and the unthinkable clouded his reason. A gift to Valerie in their second year together, he’d commissioned the weapons more for sentimentality than use. Curses flew from his rage seeing the door to their bedchamber closed.

Cullen pounded on the door, no longer caring if his actions marred his hands- his calls to her growing louder and more frantic until he threw his weight against the unmoving barrier. He heard the clunk of a heavy object on the floor and the scrape of a chair. The sounds of movement inside giving him hope that perhaps his fear of her taking the one thing most precious to him- her life- had not been her goal. He called to her again.

“Valerie, please unlock the door. You’re safe here, Val. It’s Cullen, please open the door.” Pressing his ear against the wood, he strained to listen to the sounds inside.  Frenetic breathing and the slap of bare feet on the floor conjured images of his wife, terrified and alone. The door mutated into an enemy to vanquish, barring him from consoling her, protecting her from the darkness that claimed her.

“The axe!” His prescient mind flashed on the axe kept near the woodpile. Determination carried him down the stairs and out beyond the barn, his silver target resting against the pile. A fleeting memory of the tool set in the barn earlier that morning quickly dissolved in haste-filled steps.

Taking up the cry for her to open the door again, he waited but heard no sound from within. “Valerie, please!” The first crack of the axe lodged tight, forcing Cullen to curse and struggle with the axe head. Every hack seemed to increase the width of the door, preventing Cullen from reaching her.

Dread settled into his body, slowing his pace and anchoring him to the floor. A beam of light entered the darkened hall, revealing the interior of their room. Reaching through the opening, wood sliced and pierced his arm until he found the bolt to release the offending lock.

Cullen burst through the door and lunged for her grabbing her from behind and wrestling to pull the dagger from her hand.

“Valerie!” A final cry, his outstretched hand reached out to stop her.

_The echo of her name in the vigil room disturbed Cullen. His shoulders burned from effort, face and tunic wet with tears. “No more. I cannot continue.” Cullen paced the room allowing time to compose his emotions and calm his body. Leaning against the cool stones of the wall, Cullen considered the trials forced upon him.  To leave now would expose his failure.  A muted conversation carried on through the door, after a few sharp words, the discussion in the hallway ended. “Someone wished to interfere and met with a refusal. They know what I see. What is it Barclay asked of me?”_

If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change it?

_Cullen’s anxieties sent his hands raking through his hair, grabbing what he could in frustration. “What purpose does love serve if it leads to destruction of a life?”  He paced and ranted, revisiting all he had seen thus far. “If this is my fate, then no, I shall not continue!” Cullen hurried to the door and reached for the handle. He stopped. Hand hovering over the means to end his trial, Cullen hesitated. “A new life of service and sacrifice. Her words.”_

_Staring back into the vigil room Cullen faced a decision. Would he continue to the end of his path or abandon his new life? Hand snatched back, he turned from the door, staring at the kneeler. His heart begged for answers, his mind lashed out denying the visions. The turmoil within threatened to take Cullen to the hallway door and end his torment. He reached out towards the kneeler and found a strange serenity in the warmth of a familiar hearth, laughter and a child’s voice. Cullen settled into a loving embrace and entered the Seventh hour._


	7. Hour Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen now knows what awaits him in the future. In his seventh hour, he is granted a reprieve and finds warmth and peace in family and friends.

_Hour Seven:  My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace._

“Brother of mine, stop your yapping and help me reach that serving bowl.” Mia Rutherford tapped her foot and waited for Cullen’s help.

Branson laughed and leaned towards him, “so much for being a guest. Get moving, she’s a beast if you-“

“I _can_ hear you Bran, in case you were wondering.” Mia’s sarcastic tone and glare towards the two men pulled Cullen from his chair.

Branson on the other hand, took the opportunity to continue his torment. “Why no, sister of my heart, I wasn’t wondering in the slightest. In fact-“

A sideways glance from Cullen stopped Branson from his teasing. “Which is it, Mia?”  She pointed to the top of the cupboard. Reaching for the bowl, Cullen grunted as a young boy plowed into his legs. Quick reflexes grabbed the slipping bowl before it could topple to the floor.

“For the love of the Maker, Bran!” Mia yelped.  Cillian, six years old, had attached himself to Cullen at every possible moment; usually at the most inopportune of times.

“Hello, Cul!” Cillian grinned up at his uncle, arms and legs firmly grasping Cullen’s leg.

“Cill, that’s Uncle Cul. _Happy_ \- Mia?” Branson leaned back in his chair. “Come on son, give your Uncle’s legs a break; I’m guessing he’ll be right bruised by the time he leaves.” Mia’s scoff carried her back to her tasks. 

Cillian looked like Branson when he was younger, a filthy face, mussed hair and the boy possessed a certain penchant for mischief much like his father.

The lightness of being with his family lifted Cullen from the moment he’d arrived. Valerie had not wished to travel and visited with her mother until he could return.  Despite the difficulties and changes between them, Cullen found his thoughts straying more and more to his wife; he wondered if leaving her, if only for a few weeks, had been the right idea.

Valerie insisted he take the journey. Obligations had kept Cullen away from his family for four years.  Despite the happy reunion, Cullen closed his eyes thinking of Valerie and prayed for her own serenity and calm in his absence.

A missed question from Mia grabbed his attention. “I said, you’re thinking of her again- aren’t you?”

The flush that crept up his neck won against the denial falling from his lips. “A little, perhaps.”

“Cullen. . .“ Mia began. He braced for another offering of her wisdom.  Cullen and Branson exchanged a simple glance and rushed their older sister into silence, each placing a quick peck on her cheeks. She sputtered and shooed them away to rich laughter from both men.

Her ears burned red, and she busied herself completing the cooking for the evening meal. “I expect that sort of foolishness from Bran; I think he’s managed to get even more unruly over the years.”

Feigned shock sent Branson’s chair scraping against the floor. “Unruly? My dear sister, I may enjoy a good joke now and again, but _your_ bossy nature is to the bone.” His act continued after throwing a quick wink in Cullen’s direction. “Come along, Cullen. We have manly things to discuss.” 

“Manly. . .things?” Cullen saw a pointed stare pass between his siblings. A mild curiosity built in his thoughts. He wondered if the preceding show had been to put him at ease before what would likely be a serious discussion. “All right, on to manly things then, Bran.”

Following his younger brother outside, the two sat on a bench. Cullen, eager to avoid a lengthy discussion of personal matters spoke first. “Before you ask, I’m all right. Val is finding her way and I want to be there with her.”

Pressing his lips together, Branson met his older brother’s eyes.  “I believe you. Mia thinks the worst.” He stopped, inhaling long and deep. “We all worry, I guess. When your letters slowed, Mia shared the few she’d received. Something changed in those letters, Cul.”

Cullen felt the unease rise; he’d never considered their concerns. “Forgive me; I should have realized.”

A strong hand clapped Cullen’s back. “Don’t apologize. I can see you’re all right.” He paused and stood. “You should go back. As much as we’re all enjoying this visit, you need to get home. It is acceptable to be a little selfish now and again.”

A gentle shove from Cullen and a sly grin elicited a shout from the younger of the two.  Cullen crossed his arms, “selfishness is good from time to time. Coming from you, makes sense.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Bran, your first word just happened to be ‘mine’.” Cullen said, pushing off the bench.

 “Let me guess, Cul. You were born reciting the Chant with exacting perfection.”  The two continued to taunt one another until called inside.

_____________

“Are you awake?”

A soft whisper and even softer touch on the bridge of his nose woke Cullen from his rest. Through hazy vision, he glimpsed her watching him and hummed, not quite able to speak.  Valerie’s eyes held his own until so captivated, nothing remained but her. He’d tried to explain in words to her what he saw, but even the comparisons Cullen would use never quite fit.

Valerie’s eyes began as all things do, lost in the dark, vast and deep leading him deep within.  From this dark center, he witnessed an explosion of color- vibrant and rich; a forest in the peak of its season, a sea of life and leaves so rich to shelter him and around it a halo of sunlight, giving way to even deeper hues.

She’d laughed once when he refused to say ‘green’ when speaking of her eyes. He preferred the preciousness of perfect stones, musing she in her own magnificent simplicity remained much the same- a wonder for him to behold.

 “You’re staring again,” she said. 

Cullen responded in a soft chuckle and words fell with ease. “So I am.” Rubbing her shoulder, Cullen reached for her surprised when she pulled away.

“No, we. . .that is. . .I need to ask,” she scoffed, “I have to know if you’re taking lyrium, Cullen.”

He stiffened at her accusation; they’d been through this before.  “Valerie, I have not lied to you. I stopped when I arrived in Haven and have not touched it since.” Annoyed at first, the hint of some deeper emotion caught his attention as a tear blinked free from her eye.  Knowing how she battled with showing her sadness to him, her current state troubled him.  “Val, why are you sad?”

“I dreamed of you in a darkened alley. Lost and alone, you didn’t know me.” Valerie spoke in a daze not looking at him, but with each word and detail she shared, he understood the images disturbed her.  Her dream so vivid, she felt compelled to confront him.

He listened to her story unfold; he tried to reach for her hand several times only to have her shrink away.

“So you see, I have to know.” Valerie finished her story, and with shaking breath exhaled to gain control over her emotions once more.

Denial and disappointment rushed to his head and Cullen pushed them aside concerned not for his pride but for Valerie’s peace of mind. “I want to reassure you, Val. I have not nor will I ever touch lyrium again.” His vanity argued in his head. The pain she’d inflicted after her injury and the aftermath of her despair he’d shouldered alone, and now she sought to question his veracity.

“It’s so hard to fight some days,” she said, “but I see you and tell myself ‘ _one more sunrise, that’s all I have to do.’_ Cullen, I can do that.”

He harbored no illusions; Valerie’s depression would never end, but the simple goal of giving him–and herself- one more sunrise had been the means to get through the darkest days.  “I’ve never asked you for more than what you can give, Val. What are you saying?”

The forced exhale from her, long and slow, turned his stomach over. “If I were to lose you, I’m not sure I could fight.”

Dressing quickly and moving to her side, he’d have to choose words with care. “You thought I was lost, remember? You hired villagers to work the farm. When I was ill, you took control.” His gentle hands cupped her face. “Live for yourself Valerie and not for me, but know that as long as I am able, I will be here with you.” 

_____________

Despite the chaos of the day’s visit, a lazy sunset held on to the horizon eager to please its audience.  Alistair reached out his hands to take the sleeping child from Valerie’s lap. “I’ll take him Val. Sorry about that, Aedan takes after me. The boy can sleep anywhere.” 

Cullen smiled at her contented sigh. When Valerie tried to shift in her seat, both men rushed to help.

“Sit, I’m fine,” she said to Alistair. “You two need to relax.”  At Valerie’s admonishment Elissa laughed and nodded.

Elissa and Valerie had planned this visit numerous times, but in the two years since Cullen’s return he’d finally agreed. As grateful as Cullen had been to their friends for their help over the years, the idea of the entire Theirin MacEanraig family descending on their quiet home hadn’t appealed. Valerie had overruled Cullen’s concerns and insisted.

Now in the quiet hours, the mabari AJ and Max- new best friends -slept in the yard. Alistair’s daughter Aislinn read in the diminishing afternoon light ignoring Elissa’s pleas to read by the hearth.

Cullen looked to Alistair and Elissa. In spite of her admonishments to Aislinn, the two held hands as they sat near one another. He smiled to see Alistair’s thumb rub across Elissa’s hand, an absent but no less meaningful act of affection.

“Val, are you tired?” His voice, low and soft meant for her ears alone.

Shaking her head, she leaned back in the rocking chair, a gift from Alistair and Elissa. Cullen sat across from her, watching a serenity he’d longed to see in her for so long.  The soft lines of her face, the slow rise and fall in her chest as she breathed touched him.

Alistair cleared his throat. “Don’t look now, Lis, but I think someone’s in love.”

“Al, stop teasing; you do the same thing. Hush, it’s sweet.” Elissa sent Alistair to bring Aislinn inside, and she stood. “Val, let me take him. I’ll put him to bed. We’ll have more time tomorrow.”

Valerie nodded her assent and between the two women, Aedan moved from one to the other without as much as a whimper.  When Valerie attempted to follow, Elissa instructed her to stay put before laughing. “Sorry. Used to giving orders. I’m sure you understand. She’s all yours, Cullen.”  

Wishes for peaceful rest completed, Cullen held her to him, as if hoping to hold the serenity for as long as it would last.

“Cullen, I know what I’ve said before and I don’t know what is possible, but we could try. . .if you wanted to, I think.” She met his eyes.

_A warm breeze pushed against him, setting him back on his heels, the vigil room taking form around him. “What did she mean, we could try?” He searched the visions, trying to remember the words and conversations he’d seen only pieces of through his meditations and found no answer among them._

_“We could try,” he repeated. Reflecting on the images of the afternoon and diminishing sunlight before they disappeared, he realized the significance of the three words. The notions that he, now at his young age, could sit and contemplate what awaited him many years into the future, and still fill his younger self with such hope that a life of sacrifice would lead to something as rich and precious as a family left no room for further thought. He had to push through and see more. Cullen no longer worried for the highs and lows of the path before him; he longed to see what waited for him in the next hour to come._


	8. Hour Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eighth hour explodes as Cullen is forced to witness the imperfections of life.

_Hour eight: Touch me with fire that I be cleansed. Tell me I have sung to Your approval._

_The clatter of an object against a hard surface sends pieces skittering about- the victim of an unknown crime. A voice raised in anger and something more. Cullen soon recognizes the shouting as his own. A door slams and a wave of frustration forces him to grip the kneeler as the eight hour explodes into being._

Pacing in the far room, Cullen’s frustration knocked a vase into the wall. A soft knock and Valerie’s voice urged him to talk with her. He’d not locked the door, but she respected his anger enough to leave him alone.  Her parting words told him she’d take AJ out into the fields and return soon.

Fists balled tight, he neither acknowledged nor responded. He sank into the desk chair and hands gripped his neck. She’d gone too far. 

_When the caravan arrived, Cullen’s confusion turned to anxiety as the man launched into a prepared speech._

_“Greetings from Tevinter! Magister Pavus sends his warmest regards and offers gifts and the requested medicinal ingredients as requested by the Lady Valerie. He asks that you call using the preferred method at your convenience to discuss proper care. Allow me to assist you in unloading the crates, will that barn be sufficient?”_

_Valerie agreed and gave directions to the courier. As she passed, Cullen gripped her arm. “What ingredients, Val?”_

_“Later,” she whispered, “get these unloaded, send him on his way and then we’ll talk.”_

_Cullen, while gentle, did not release her. “Now, Valerie.”  He hadn’t meant to glare, but it was clear Valerie had hidden something critical from him and to enlist Dorian’s help only added to his frustration._

_“You worry too much.” Her lighthearted words and smile did not lighten his mood, and the frown deepened._

_“I see. Forgive me, I need. . .a moment.” Cullen left Valerie to deal with the courier and returned inside. She called after him, but Cullen ignored her plea. Raking his fingers through his hair, he scratched his scalp, frustration mounting in the one direction he didn’t want it to go–to her._

_He couldn’t understand what role Dorian played. Helping without consulting Cullen first set his nerves on edge. It proved the two talked behind his back, and the idea his friend would disregard their friendship to aid in some clandestine act disturbed him._

_Valerie entered and without a hint of concern questioned his behavior._

_“My behavior? Valerie the only one of us being untruthful and inappropriate is you.” He raised his arms and then dropped them in defeat. “You sneak behind my back and enlist Dorian’s help? To what end Valerie? Must everyone know our failings?” Cullen spoke of the numerous failed attempts to have a child._

_“Cullen, we will not succeed in everything either of us set out to do. Even Alistair and Elissa-“_

_Cullen sliced through the air with his hands. “Enough! I am done listening to the comparisons of the perfection that is Alistair and Elissa! How dare you enlist the help of my friend-“ She scowled at him and took over the argument._

_“Your friend? Dorian does not belong to you, Cullen. When you left, he was there! Dorian has been a true friend to us both, you don’t get to decide for me!” She moved closer. “You left me, Cullen. Remember that. YOU left ME. Once again it all comes down to you. How you feel, how embarrassed you are, how you look to others. People fail, Cullen. They seek alternatives. Dorian offered a possible solution. Maybe you’re jealous that I would seek his help, that’s it isn’t it?”_

_Cullen shook his head. “No. The only solution Dorian would suggest is magic, and I absolutely forbid the use of magic to bring my child into this world!”_

_Valerie looked around the room and stared through him. “Your child?” Deliberate steps brought her inches from him. “Your child? Cullen did you simply think a decision would be made and then everything falls into place? Just because you want something does not guarantee it. You claim to value logic and reason, so use it for Andraste’s sake!” He winced at her words. “Oh enough of your piety, Cullen!”_

_“Mock my faith? That’s your logic and reason?” He banged his head once against the wall._

_“Knock anything loose?” she scoffed, “you know what the problem is here? You’re so stuck within the pages of your ridiculous musings in that . . .that mass of useless words and silly notions, you’ve forgotten how unpredictable life is and how things simply do not fall into place because you will it so!”_

_He blinked back the sting of her words. “Useless words and silly notions. Thank you, Val. Not only am I incapable of fathering a child, but apparently I am useless and silly for wasting time–is that it?” He turned from her and heavy steps carried him to the stairs._

_“Go then. Run away. That’s what you do well-right?” Valerie snapped at him. Turning back to look at her he could see the shudder in her shoulders and head hanging down as she shook it. “Maybe it is better this way. You are far too concerned with how everything appears to others, Cullen. You’re far better suited to the life of a noble than you realize- my lord.”_

_Valerie’s words hurt. He hated being addressed by any title, and they’d worked hard with the farm hands and artisans in the nearby villages. Cullen kept the Trevelyan family holdings profitable. Valerie had offered to petition to keep Cullen’s family name, but it had been his wish not to anger the elder Lady Trevelyan._

_She hadn’t finished. “Maker forbid you fail at something, Cullen, would that all of us were as perfect.” She waved him up the stairs. “Well? Go whine about all this in your little journal!”_

Staring at the empty desk, Cullen did not want to put quill to paper. Truth seeped through Valerie’s argument. Even though he preferred the privacy life had provided them, Valerie felt the failures as much as he. _Val asked for help_ , he thought, _to swallow her pride and ask took courage._ “And you mocked that courage. Brilliant work.”

_______________

 _This is a mistake_ , he thought, _Valerie should have remained at home._ The elder Lady Trevelyan, stricken in her advanced years called for Cullen to assist her with her affairs. Valerie insisted on accompanying him, despite her mother’s orders to the contrary.

Cullen sent a request for a healer to Dorian, hoping his standing in Tevinter would send the very best to the Trevelyan family. It would be several weeks before the healer would arrive, but Cullen promised Valerie to do whatever possible to make her mother comfortable.

Valerie added to the stress of illness and fear plaguing her mother. Cautioned to remain in bed, eight months had passed in a very difficult pregnancy. Cullen shared Lady Melisande’s worry. Valerie refused to rest, often pushing herself to the point of exhaustion. The smell of food set her insides to roll, and she’d refuse to eat often.

Arriving at the Trevelyan estate always proved challenging, too many circling and overly helpful attendants would aggravate Valerie’s delicate state. When Valerie winced climbing the steps of the villa, Cullen scooped her up and carried her inside.

After she’d complained and argued, Valerie agreed to rest allowing Cullen time to meet with Lady Melisande.

The villa, far too ornate for Cullen’s tastes, had been home to the Trevelyans for generations. Lady Melisande had a fondness for drama and his acceptance into the family had been no exception. When her husband passed away, however, she’d relied on Cullen to handle the family holdings and accounts.

Sitting in her room, no pretenses, her frailty struck him and for a moment, he saw Valerie in the lady’s eyes.

“Cullen. Will you grant me one indulgence? I have no right to burden you, I would ask this one thing of you even in the face of so many others I have placed at your feet.” Lady Melisande implored him with her eyes, and as with his wife could not refuse.

“My lady, you have but to name it.” Cullen said, a slight bow of his head as he answered her.

“Marry my daughter here, properly. Allow me to see her as I imagined. As you grace our family with the gift of new life, allow me to see my child as a mother should before the Maker calls me.”

Cullen agreed without hesitation, convincing Valerie to do so would be another matter.

“Thank you. Cullen, if you will pardon the words of an old woman, allow me another moment.” She held her hand to him and Cullen took hers with gentleness. The lack of warmth and strength surprised him, but he waited for her words.

“I thank the Maker for bringing you into our lives. Aidan found purpose with you. You brought Valerie back to the world and renewed her heart. I know not how to show my gratitude, but I name you as one of my own. Not only husband to my daughter, but as a son to me. Your child shall carry the title of Bann. I have made my wishes clear to the Chantry and the Court.”

_Still feeling the cold frailty against his warm skin, Cullen opened his eyes, the warmth of the vigil room reminding him of his younger self. “My fate is tied to this family.”  Cullen rose and stretched, enamored of the possibility of wait awaited him. “If I am to have a wife and child, I will not accept the vows to remain chaste. If these visions are true, I would do well to remember them.”_

_A bell tolled somewhere in the keep. “Strange, it does not announce the hour.” Cullen listened again as the bell continued. “A call, but to what?” He returned to the kneeler and waited. A chill claimed him, the shudder combined with the tolling bell disturbed him. “Someone has been called to the Maker,” he said, closing his eyes praying to be spared the pain of what might await._


	9. Hour Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One life ends and another begins as the tenth hour of Cullen's vigil uncovers more of the Maker's plan.

_Hour nine: O Maker, hear my cry: Seat me by Your side in death._

_All around him a woman’s voice sang. The words hung heavy in the room and in his heart as the ninth hour tolled in the words of the Canticle of Trials. Rest at the Maker’s right hand and be forgiven._

Cullen’s confusion carried through as his vision sharpened. Standing before an ornate mirror, a woman called his name.

“Cullen, are you ready?” He turned to see Elissa leaning against the door with Alistair standing behind her. “Nice color. I can see why it was her favorite.” Elissa and Alistair’s presence touched him. Elissa took charge, directing the guests, the staff–for the first time in his life, Cullen didn’t know where to begin.

He studied the reflection in the mirror, straightening the formal jacket and sash. “Val called it midnight blue. I can’t tell the difference, it’s dark, and blue. Her mother had picked it out years ago,” he sighed, realizing what was to follow would prove more difficult than he expected.

“I’m not sure I follow you.” Elissa’s brow scrunched as she looked at him. “Do you need us to stall, we could make a few excuses to give you more time?”

“No. Thank you, Lis. Forgive me, I’m preoccupied.” He said, staring into the mirror. “You’ve both done so much. As it stands, I’ll be indebted for the foreseeable future.”

Alistair laughed, a subtle reassurance to his ears. “I think we’re even after this. Shall we go?”

“I’m not sure I knew her at all or any of us for that matter.  I’d rather-“ Cullen’s protest, cut off by a gentle tug on his arm and a pull on his jacket.

“I know. If you need us, look behind you. That’s where we’ll be. Enough stalling.” She led him out of the room.

The expectations of those gathered centered on what the son of simple farmers, former Commander of the Inquisition and now Lord Trevelyan of Ostwick would say during his eulogy. The Chanter continued her song as Cullen joined the group. In keeping with custom, the chair to his right sat empty.

A firm grip on his shoulder steeled his nerves. _Alistair_ , he thought. _No other would ignore propriety to offer support._

The Revered Mother led the group through prayers; Cullen feeling the emptiness beside him. The thought of carrying the burden on his own. He was sure the words would not come, even though he’d written every one himself, but to stand and speak, Cullen’s concern grew.

Instead, Cullen looked through those gathered seated opposite him. Only those considered family sat facing the guests, and another reassurance from Alistair helped Cullen settle once again.

Dorian, seated at the rear, refused Cullen’s invitation to sit with the family.  Next to Alistair, Dorian had proven one of Cullen’s dearest friends. He’d never ceased searching for ways to help Valerie, even when all others stopped–Dorian pledged to continue.

Cullen’s mind wandered to Dorian’s unexpected arrival the previous month.

______________

Word arrived before the Tevinter caravan. Cullen forgot himself and sighed in relief when Marcel, the family steward, read the note. “Forgive me. Thank you, Marcel.” Cullen pushed his chair back, eager to check on both Valerie and Lady Melisande.

“Ser,” Marcel’s warm smile revealed a similar relief, “the news is most welcome.” Cullen and Marcel reached an agreement when they’d first met. Marcel would forego the formality of titles for Cullen’s former affiliation as a Templar and in return, Cullen shared information freely allowing the steward to take on far more in his absence.

Climbing the staircase towards the private quarters, Cullen’s concerns now carried him through the day. Even though the midwife assured him Valerie faced no danger, he could not understand why she endured such constant pain. Cullen feared her ordeal signaled the child had become a danger. _See her through_ , he prayed daily holding her weakened hand in his. The weight of her experience hung heavy on his shoulders.

Cullen could not allow Valerie to see his concern. When he entered the room, Valerie stood looking out the large window and turned her head toward him. “You left early again, is everything all right?”

He shared the news of the Tevinter healer’s arrival to Valerie’s approval. “I’m more concerned you’re out of bed, Val.”

A soft laugh accompanied a wave of her hand. “I had to get up. He was marching in place yet again. More proof the baby is a boy, Cullen.”

Joining her at the window, he offered himself as a leaning post. Valerie taking full advantage of Cullen’s strength, obliged and  their closeness lifted the weight in his chest. “You’re feeling better.” Not a question, but an observation.

She nodded. “I hope this means he’s ready, but given neither of us have ever been on time for anything; I’ll wager he’ll be late.”

Even with the elation at the notion of a boy, somehow Cullen had the sense Valerie was wrong. “I’ll take the wager and that she’ll be on time.”

Valerie turned to face him, and the warm flush in her face coaxed a broad smile. _Val is feeling much better_ , he thought, _I can see the strength returning in her face_.

“She?” Her brow furrowed as she met his eyes.

Pressing his lips against his forehead Cullen explained. “Yes, she. If we examine the evidence it all points to yet another woman about to enter my life. “She’s stubborn, strong-willed, unpredictable and late for everything.”

“I have not been late to every event,” the feigned pout gave way to a slow nod, “you know Cullen, now that I think about it, I have a talent for late arrivals.”

He chuckled and kissed her once more. “Thank you. I shall remember you admitted this the next time you claim the fault is mine.”  Cullen glanced out the window to see the large caravan of carts entering the grounds. “It seems out guest has arrived, which means you need to get back to bed.” He guided her, gentle steps and soft touches until Val settled back into bed. “Once our guest is with your mother, I’ll return.”

_____________

The cacophony of sound, arguments and directions hurled right and left carried by a loud and demanding voice Cullen recognized immediately as he hurried down the stairs. In the foyer, grinning wide Dorian Pavus stood strong, flinging his traveling cloak toward the waiting hand of the steward.

“You asked for the best Tevinter could spare, and naturally there was but one to fill your request, my friend.” The two men embraced, with Dorian gripping Cullen’s shoulders as the greeting ended. “You look terrible, but I suspect that’s from worry and over thinking every detail, as usual. First, I wish to see the elder Lady Trevelyan, and then we will see to Val.”

Cullen stepped back and crossed his arms. “We? Are there more of you because I see only you, Dorian.”

A rich laugh filled the foyer, “yes, well. . .let me get to work and the two of us can discuss more later. There is much to tell you, I suspect you heard from Leliana as to the state of affairs in Thedas.”

Cullen led Dorian through the villa, discussing what he knew of the situation further north.  “It would be best not to share with Valerie. I cannot say how she would react to the news of-“ Cullen cut off his own speech, unwilling to mention the one who’d caused Valerie so much pain.

Dorian stopped, clasping Cullen’s arm. “Say no more. The health of both women is the purpose of my visit.”

Cullen introduced Dorian to Lady Melisande and left the mage to his work. He sat on a padded bench, hands clasped tight. “She grows weaker every day”, Cullen whispered aloud, “but fulfilling her request of a proper wedding is not possible for Valerie until after she’s given birth.”

Hours passed with Cullen in quiet contemplation. When his mind released him, Cullen realized the day had passed without him, the long shadows in the halls proof of time lost in thought. Returning to his room, the sounds of laughter and friendly arguments grabbed Cullen’s attention. He found Valerie and Dorian playing at the chessboard the two engrossed in teasing one another.

A quick glance from the mage in Cullen’s direction met with a bold statement. “Cullen, I must inform you that your wife is a terrible cheat!”  He chuckled, returning to the game.

Pulling a chair up to Valerie’s side, he sat. “Figuring that out only now, hmm? If I recall, you once told me I had it all wrong and was a horrible loser- or have you forgotten?”

“Ha!” Dorian scoffed, “Perhaps I was too hasty with that assessment. I see now the lady does, in fact, cheat. Excuse me, my dear, I need to borrow Cullen for a moment, and then I want to win back my money.”

Cullen looked between the two. “How can you play chess with a wager on the victor?”

Dorian guided Cullen from the room. “Cullen, you can wager on almost anything, believe me.”

Once outside the room, Dorian’s demeanor changed. “I will not lie to you, Lady Melisande is not likely to live much longer; I will keep her comfortable and free of any discomfort.”

“Thank you, Dorian.”

The mage’s down cast eyes and sudden drop of his shoulders troubled Cullen.

“The larger concern is Valerie.” Dorian sighed, “I spoke with your midwife and our concern is that she-.”

A sudden panic rose in Cullen’s throat. “She’ll be all right, Dorian, tell me Val will be all right.”

“Cullen.”

Pulling away Cullen paced. “No. Do whatever you must, do you hear me?” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “promise me, on our friendship, you will see Valerie through.”

__________________

A hand shaking Cullen’s shoulder pulled him from his reverie. It was then he heard the howl tearing through the villa and a glimpse Dorian’s retreating form racing up the stairs.

All eyes stared in shock and fear as the mourners focused on him. A second shriek forced him into action. Taking the stairs with such haste, he wondered how he’d managed to reach the landing without falling. A fleeting thought to the disrupted funeral overruled in his head as he burst into the bedroom.

The coppery scent struck Cullen first, recalling battles past and loss of life. “No!” Cullen stumbled as he reached the bedside, his eyes drawn to the stained sheets first and Valerie’s unmoving hand on the bed.

Dorian’s composure unnerved Cullen as the mage worked in an absurd silence, unfazed by the sight before him. By comparison, Cullen dropped to his knees unable to forget the rust colored reminder of her life waning away into the bed, resting his head near her open hand.

The lightness of fingers combing through his hair Cullen dismissed as a mere echo of memory. His silent tears soothed in the recollection of her voice calling his name, Cullen discounting the voice in his ears as fabrication.

Voices carried explanations and reassurances, but none could break Cullen from his sadness.

A resonant cry filled the room, wrenching Cullen from his grief to feel familiar fingers in his hair, and clarity return finding Valerie’s tired and glistening eyes smiling at him. “I thought-“

Dorian tapped Cullen’s shoulder. “There are times I worry about you, my friend, had you listened rather than assume the worst, the midwife explained all was normal.”

Cullen blinked several times as a small bundle rested in the crook of Dorian’s arms. “I regret to inform you such a beautiful baby girl cannot bear my name and that in itself is the only tragedy in this room.” Dorian winked in Valerie’s direction.

_Relief flooded through Cullen as he exhaled, despite the sting in his hands. He stared down at his palms, deep indents from the wooden sides of the kneeler fading as his awareness returned. The weight of his increasing years and deepening emotions would soon end. Rays of sunlight cast jeweled tones on the stones, and within the morning light hope rekindled in a solemn recitation. Fresh scents mixed with mulled spices and the flavor of sugared sweets announced the tenth hour._


	10. Hour Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end of his vigil, Cullen's tenth hour uncovers his greatest challenge.

_Hour Ten: Make me one within Your glory. And let the world once more see Your favor_

_Rhythmic galloping pounded through his chest, but a soft whimper giving way to a contented hum sharpened Cullen’s awareness. The forest scents of musty earth and early morning rain left faded in a downward glance at tiny fingers stretching heavenward._

“Maker’s breath,” he wondered, “will she ever sleep? Please, Cassie a little rest is all I ask.”  Despite his fatigue, Cullen chuckled. _Cassie. Cassandra._ He suspected Divine Victoria had yet to stop smiling knowing she served as the namesake for his daughter.

Slowing Orvyn to a cantor, he peeled the edge of the sling aside to see two wide slate-grey eyes staring back at him. “There you are,” he said, turning Orvyn toward the stables. “Well little one, perhaps your mother will have more luck.” He slowed, and let the horsemaster grab the reigns, leading them to an empty stall.

“Didn’t work, Ser?” The man asked.

Cullen shook his head. “No, didn’t work. What else do you suggest, Fermin?”

The man scratched his head and shrugged. “Sorry Ser, the ride always worked with my children. Have you tried stories? Talking with the babe?”

He nodded, Cullen and Valerie tried every suggestion thrown in their direction. Their salvation planned to return to his home in a fortnight. Dorian seemed to be the only person capable of lulling Cassie into sleep.

The current problem stemmed from one unavoidable truth; after the events of the evening gave way to the following day, Dorian would return to Tevinter leaving Valerie and Cullen without the means to tire Cassie to the point of sleep.

Entering through the kitchen, all eyes turned as he offered greetings and listened to more possible solutions to his predicament. Polite nodding carried him through the kitchen and to his destination-the library.

As much as Cullen missed their home, the library remained a favorite refuge during their stay. Valerie hinted she’d agree to stay in the villa if Cullen wanted. His focus centered on the hope Dorian woke early and sat somewhere among the stacks and bookcases.

“Looking for me?” A disembodied voice laughed as Dorian appeared from around a corner. “I see it is time for another installment of ‘Uncle Dorian’s Tevinter Tales’ for the Lady Cassandra.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Idle gossip and sordid details are not suitable, _Uncle_ Dorian. At least use discretion.”

“Give me a little credit, my friend. I’ll save the more interesting stories when she’s older.” He grinned and accepted the precious bundle. “I’ll see her safely to her room once she nods off. You should rest. It’s in terrible taste for the groom to fall asleep at the wedding feast, and there will be no sneaking away so off you go.”

 _Wedding feast_ , Cullen withheld a groan at the reminder. Valerie and Cullen had married in somewhat secrecy the first time. This evening’s affair served as fulfillment of the elder Lady Trevelyan’s wishes for a proper wedding. He harbored no reservations about renewing their vows, Cullen looked forward to that portion of the evening. Parties and socializing given the lack of sleep soured his enthusiasm.

Climbing the stairs to their room, Cullen undressed and fell into bed. The warmth of her skin next to his- this above all other sensations remained his most cherished. In this serenity months prior, he found the words for their vow renewal. Valerie agreed to the ceremony but only if Cullen wrote the words she would recite. He hoped a few hours of sleep would be sufficient as he drifted off.

Just before sunset, Cullen waited surrounded by family, friends and honored guests.  Reflecting on his plan for the evening, Cullen wondered how they’d been able to plan around Cassie’s strange sleeping habits, the constant parade of guests and still manage to write the vows they’d share in moments. He’d struggled for weeks to express what he felt until a similar morning uncovered what had eluded him for so long. Dorian whispered something behind Cullen, but he nodded without hearing the words. The room fell silent around him, following Valerie’s slow march down the stairs led by Alistair, until she joined him.

Divine Victoria could not make the journey to Ostwick, but sent an envoy in her place. Cullen’s eyes remained fixed on Valerie through the opening prayers. Unsure how much time had passed when Valerie reached for his hand and asked if he was ready Cullen did not hesitate.  He smiled and kissed the top of her hand and then he spoke to her.  In that perfect moment, there was no sound save his strong voice. 

“Today I give you a promise, Valerie  
that you will have all my love and  
never shall you walk alone.  
No matter how near or far I shall always be with you,  
even in the darkest of places.  
Your trust is my strength,  
Your heart is my shelter,  
Your arms, my only home.”

 Taking her hand in his a second time, he kissed her palm before releasing her hand. 

Valerie in turn laid her hand against his cheek, Cullen’s eyes closing at the gesture. When he opened them to see her smiling at him, she offered the same words to him.

“Today I give you a promise, Cullen  
that you will have all my love and  
never shall you walk alone.  
No matter how near or far I shall always be with you,  
even in the darkest of places.  
Your trust is my strength,  
Your heart is my shelter,  
Your arms, my only home.”

The Revered Mother continued the ceremony as Cullen took small steps closer to Valerie until without warning he reached for her face and pulled her to him. A murmur rose through the guests until someone shouted,  “Too soon, Cullen!” Despite the laughter all around him, Cullen ignored the crowd and stepped into her space, cradling her back and pressing her to him. His kisses grew more urgent ignoring the coughs, the laughter and the Revered Mother’s interruptions. The surrounding chatter continued until Valerie could not help but give in. She leaned in returning his kiss. A wave of applause rose from those gathered, but neither Cullen nor Valerie stopped to hear what was happening around them.  

The wedding feast was under way by the time the couple made their way out into the gardens. The Revered Mother had waited for them to give Cullen an earful about his behavior. She relented after he picked up the diminutive woman and swung her around telling her he felt so blessed by the Maker to have Valerie he could not help himself.

Cullen led Valerie through the evening, trading quips and stories his joy evident in his ceaseless smile. Every so often he would look to Valerie and stare with such intensity she flushed in deepening hues of red.

As the evening ended, Cullen abandoned all propriety lifting Valerie up by the waist. She cried out as Cullen slung her over his shoulder calling good night and farewell to all as he carried her from the garden to applause and laughter.

________

A long sigh dragged him out of bed. _Bears. Last week a dragon wouldn’t let her sleep and this week it’s bears._ Cassie, now four abhorred sleep in any form. She preferred endless story time sitting in Cullen’s lap or pretending to approve any paperwork after he finished. However, sleeping, nap times and rest were for the weak.

He’d sent Cassie back to her room and dressed so as not to wake Valerie. At almost two years old, Brennan did not share his older sister’s view of sleep, but he took hours to reach a restful state.

Cullen still hadn’t acclimated to living in the family villa. He missed the solitude and intimacy of their home and the peacefulness of the farm. He’d agreed to remain with Valerie in mind. With so many focused on their well-being, the burden placed on her was far less than if they’d continued to live in the farmhouse.

Entering his daughter’s room, Cullen chuckled to see her pretending to hide under her blanket. “Cassie. There are no bears in your room, close your eyes and sleep.”

Even covered by the heavy blanket, Cullen could see her shaking her head in violent thrashes, her muffled voice calling out for help. “No, Papa. There are bears in the closet. “

________

The mirror told the truth, no longer the man he once was, grey hairs had invaded his hair and taken permanent place in his whiskers. He huffed at the reflected image of maturity and fatherhood. “I have a daughter turning thirteen today,” Cullen groaned.

“You mean _we_ have a daughter turning thirteen,” Valerie corrected him. She joined him at the mirror. “If you think staring will change your reflection, I regret to inform you the mirror carries no enchantments.”

He smiled at her jest, despite knowing what was to come. Cassandra, as she now preferred-for Cassie was a child’s name- would soon share news Cullen worried would change their family.

_“I’m joining the Order Father, like you and Mother.” Cassie’s voice, so much like Valerie’s contradicted the image of the little girl terrified of creatures lurking in her closet._

_“No,” he returned his eyes to the papers on the desk, unwilling to discuss the matter further. He watched her cross her arms and shift from foot to foot, the same as he often did. Cullen glanced up, Cassie staring at him with the same determination he once saw in himself.  “There has to be another option, Cassie. Perhaps the Chantry-”_

_She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I want to be a Seeker. I know I must complete training with the Order unless someone recommends me, which you won’t.”_

_“Careful, Cassandra, rudeness and disrespect will not help your cause.” Cullen put down his quill. “Do I get any say in this decision?”_

_“No, Father. I know what you’ll say. Wait another year, think things through. I don’t want to wait.” She stiffened, waiting for his answer._

_“Two years, and then you will have my full support.” He returned to his papers._

_Slamming her fist on his desk before pacing in front of him, Cassandra threw her arms up. “Two years? You can’t be serious!” Cullen met his daughter’s eyes. “If Brennan asked, you’d let him go.”_

_“He’s ten, far too young-so no, your brother will be going nowhere.”_

_She grumbled facing away from him. “Uncle Dorian said you’d understand.”_

_“For the record, Dorian is not your uncle, Cassandra. That said, I understand but I’m not convinced you’re ready. One year-give me but one short year, and then we will talk about this again.”_

_Cullen could see her restraint; Cassandra resisting the urge to snap at him, so very familiar. “In another year, you’ll try to buy another. I’m not a child.”_

Turning to face Valerie, Cullen gripped her shoulders. “Val, we must talk.”

“What? You know I hate when you do that,” Valerie said, “tell me whatever the bad news is already.”

He wondered how to share Cassie’s request and forewent a long explanation. “Cassie wants to join the Order. I refused her request and now she’s more than a little upset.” He could not have been more ill prepared for Valerie’s reaction.

“You told her no?” She pulled out of his embrace.  “Cullen, how could you?” Valerie crossed to the window overlooking the garden. “Your sister fought for you at thirteen and Cassie is better prepared than either of us.” Turning back to him she continued, “Cassie is strong, independent and understands your expectations of her-you made sure of that.”

He frowned, “somehow you make my instruction sound overbearing and controlling, Val. She’s still so young. Another year-“

“No. If you move against her, I’ll go through Cass.” Her steeled gaze and fixed stance underscored Valerie’s words.  She would seek Divine Victoria’s intervention and Cullen would not argue with the Divine, regardless of their familiarity. “You fix this, Cullen. She’s more like you than me, but do not discount the possibility of her leaving without permission.  I’d rather send her knowing her destination than wake and find her gone.”

The idea Cassie would disobey hadn’t crossed his mind. Realizing he would lose no matter his objection, Cullen buried his reticence and agreed. “Fine,” his words sharper than intended, “but she will complete her training before petitioning the Seekers and she will agree if rejected, she will _not_ take lyrium.”

Once Valerie agreed to his terms, adding a few of her own, Cullen set out to talk with Cassie. Finding the library empty, his mood soured and Cullen took to the stairs. If Cassie left, he’d no longer be able to protect her, and despite the knowledge she would succeed he’d not counted on her leaving so soon.

Marcel found Cullen in the foyer. “Young master Brennan is in need of reinforcements, Ser.” Marcel pointed toward the gardens.

Following the shouts and clanging metal, Cullen found Cassie and Brennan. Ten years old and tall as he was at that age, Brennan covered his head with a shield using both hands while kneeling.

Cassie in contrast tried to direct him to block her blows much as Cullen taught her in practice sessions. She shouted at her brother, reminding Cullen of his less than polite training methods. “No Bren! That’s a shield in your hands, not a bloody hat! You block with it! If this were a real fight, I’d have gutted your belly, and you’d be dead!”

Brennan answered from beneath the large shield, “I’m only ten!”

“Only ten!” Cassie returned verbal fire, “Only ten? Do you think your enemies will stop and consider your age? Stand your ground!” 

 _Far too much like me_ , he thought. Hiding a smile behind his hand, Cullen coughed.  Brennan peered out from beneath the large shield, relief filling his eyes. “Thank the Maker, I’m saved!” Brennan handed the shield to his father.

Cullen fixed his son’s hair, curls as unruly as his once were. “Yes, well go on. Permission to take over?”

The boy grinned glancing toward his sister back to Cullen.  “Yes, please!”  Cullen watched until his son entered through the kitchen door before facing his daughter.

“All right, Cassie. Let’s try that again.” Cullen wondered for a moment if he’d still be able to dodge her blows and kept a firm grip on the shield. She missed her first few attempts. “Not so easy when your target moves, is it?”

She laughed at his playful tease, knowing she held back.

“If I hear you use that language again, you’ll spend tomorrow on lessons rather than packing.” He waited for her reaction.

Her expression softened as the meaning behind his words sunk in. “Then, I can go?” She rested her sword against a stone urn and took tentative steps in his direction.

Cullen nodded. For a moment, she was a little girl again. A loud yelp carried her into him, a fierce hug shared between father and daughter.

_Eighteen-year-old Cullen rocked back from the force of whatever he’d experienced. “My daughter? But how?” Searching the vigil room for an answer, Cullen found no clues. All around him, candles neared their end; wax dripped and pooled in puddles on the floor, coating the stone in a blanket of melted wax. He watched as one after the other blinked out, smothered by the remnants left in the waning hours. Shivering at the sight, Cullen wondered what the eleventh hour might reveal._


	11. Hour Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vigil nearing completion, Cullen's serenity and peace is shattered by a fall and a loss he never believed would come.

Hour Eleven: For You are the fire at the heart of the world, And comfort is only Yours to give.

_The words flowed through him; the sickly sweet odor of medicinal herbs assaulted his nostrils. Cullen swayed, a desperate grab at the kneeler hoped to stop his fall.  A sudden weightlessness carried his body to a soft mattress. Cullen’s eyes closed again as dulcet tones and soft words filled his ears ushering in the eleventh hour._

“Papa? It’s me, Cassandra.” A gentle shake of his hand roused him once again. “Father, please open your eyes. It’s Cassie.”

Cullen struggled to remember what happened. “Cassie?”

A warm grip grabbed his other hand. “Father, it’s Brennan. Do you know where you are?” Cullen closed his eyes again, their voices far too old from what he recalled. The man calling himself Brennan spoke again. “Cass, he fell. Father can’t stay here alone.”

Cullen shook his head to find a dull ache forming on the back of his head. “Where’s Val?”  Opening his eyes, he sighed at the familiar red tresses. “Val, I had the most peculiar dream.” His eyes took in the woman sitting at his bedside.  “You’re not Val.”

Warm eyes met his, honeyed brown and golden flecks smiled, mirroring his own. “Father, it’s Cassie.” She did not wince as he clutched her hand eyes widening in recollection.  She cleared her throat as tears streamed from his eyes.

“Your mother. . .how could I forget?” Cullen’s breath caught, the pain in his head pounding the reminder of an event he could not recall. “She’s waiting and I’m late again.”

“No, you aren’t late.” Brennan sat down near Cullen’s knees. “Father, you fell. Can you remember the date?”

Closing his eyes tight, Cullen tried to recall the year. “Nine. . .it’s nine eighty-nine.” Cassandra’s gentle squeeze confirmed Cullen’s response. “But Val. . .she’s waiting. I’m late. This time I’m late.”

Brennan leaned closer. “Father, you’re not late. You fell. Do you remember what happened?”

Cullen shook his head, not in response to his son’s question, but at his forgetfulness. She’d left him seven years ago.

_He woke at the touch of her fingertip running along the bridge of his nose. “You awake?” Valerie waited for him to shake loose the sleep from his body. Her voice sung out his name. “Cul-len,” she said, “come on, old man. I can’t sleep.”_

_He hummed in response. “Old man, pfft. We’re the same age.”_

_“Yes, I’m old and so are you. Get up and walk with me.” As was Valerie’s way, even a request fell from her lips as an order._

_“For you, anything.” He winked._

_“Good answer, Cullen.” She waited while he dressed. The two took their time descending the stairs and strolled out into the night air. Valerie stood to his left, arms linked as they walked. “Cassie’s doing well,” Val began, clinging to his arm, “at least she’s stopped writing about arguing with others. Knowing her, she’s either staged a coup and taken over or-“_

_Cullen completed the sentence for her. “Or they grew tired of her constant complaints and tossed her out. You encourage this behavior?  If she were in my unit,” he paused and chuckled, “I’d look the other way, wouldn’t I?”_

_Val squeezed his arm, a silent agreement. “Could we sit?”_

_Guiding her to a garden bench, Cullen did not miss the tremor in Valerie’s arm as she sat._

_“There’s something you’re not telling me, Val.” He frowned. “What’s going on?”_

_She waved his concern away. “I’m old and I can’t sleep, so I’ve dragged you out in the middle of the night to keep me company. As for keeping something from you, you’re not wrong.”_

_His insides churned as steps faltered attempting to sit. “Tell me.”_

_Valerie shifted to face him, “Cassie is in Val Royeaux. She takes after me, I guess.”_

_“Takes after you? Val, what’s happened?” Cullen considered her words, and each scenario worried him more than the last._

_“The Chantry’s been a mess since. . .Divine Victoria. First, Leliana disappeared; although Cass assured me nothing was wrong back then.” Valerie’s inhale drew his attention, sounding more like a wheeze than deep breath._

_“I’m taking you back inside, you’re unwell.”  He stood and waited for her._

_“Stop fussing, I’m fine. I’m trying not to cry, all right?” Valerie exhaled before continuing. “Cassie didn’t want to tell you, because she was sure you’d object, but it made sense to have someone nearby who she trusted.”_

_Cullen put together Valerie’s words to reveal the larger situation. “Cassie left the Seeker’s stronghold to watch over Divine Victoria?” He huffed through his nose. “Why was I not consulted? Thedas has changed, Cassie-my daughter could be in terrible danger.”_

_She stared up at him. Despite their many years together, Cullen could not decipher Valerie’s expression. “What?” He asked, wondering what he’d done._

_She wagged her finger at him, shaking her head. “This. This is why Cassie keeps news to a minimum. Cullen, she’s an adult and capable of caring for herself.” He lifted a finger to interrupt, but Valerie cut him off.  “Not this time. If you want Cassie to talk with you and write to you,” she said making circular motions indicating his person on the whole, “this. . . has to stop.”_

_Returning to her side, Cullen wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I have you to remind her to forgive my ramblings as a half-crazed father.”_

_Valerie leaned into his embrace. “Cullen, please try. Remember she’s you, but with less reticence and no concern for what others think of her.”_

_He grumbled, teasing her into changing the subject. “And what of the perfect child? Has he legally usurped any of the ruling families to put his ideas into practice?”_

_Brennan navigated politics in Thedas through the muck that had formed over the years without a single blemish. Studying under the tutelage of Dorian and others in Tevinter, and using the Trevelyan name to earn trade agreements, Brennan had taken a quiet, modest and largely ignored noble house to a profitable enterprise._

_“Stop teasing, did you expect anything less? Cullen, with you as their father, I’m surprised Brennan hasn’t enlisted his sister’s blade in his quest to better all of Thedas. Both want you to be proud of them.”_

_Clasping his hands in front of him Cullen chose his words with care. “My heart filled with pride from the moment Cassie and Bren opened their eyes and has never wavered- not once. I suppose I have you to thank for every terrifying and wonderful moment.”_

_Valerie’s eyes met his, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Cullen, there’s so much I need to say.”_

_“Tomorrow, love.” He smiled, but her widened eyes filling with tears wiped his joy away._

_She shook her head. “No. This was my last day. I can’t change this one. I’ve tried. Cullen listen well. You can change everything. You can. Promise me, if tomorrow comes or the next day and you wake up somewhere else–don’t do it. Don’t take it.”_

_“Don’t take what? Valerie, you’re tired.” The rapid rise and fall of her chest, her pointed whisper as if someone could overhear them worried Cullen._

_Pressing her lips against his he tasted her tears. “Don’t do it. Find me in Kirkwall.  You will forget it all.” She wiped her face, “I didn’t have to take lyrium, don’t you see? I remembered everything and changed what I could.”  He stared at her without speaking, unsure of her affliction. “Cullen, please don’t look at me like that. I know you want to be a Templar, but you have to remember.”_

_“Want to be a Templar? Valerie, I was for many years.” He guided her through the villa, helping Valerie return to bed, all the while she rambled on about people they’d met and places they’d been. He felt her forehead to test for fever as she mentioned another name for the first time in over thirty years. “I knew what would happen with Solas, Cullen. All of it, but here is where I needed to be.”_

_Cullen climbed into bed and gathered her close, covering them both using a slight rocking motion to soothe her fears. “Give me one more sunrise, Val.”_

_“I can’t,” she said._

 

Cullen’s tears flowed as he focused on Cassie’s face staring down at him. “I can’t,” Cullen said, “the last words she said that night- _I can’t_.”

He noted the look between his children. “Your mother was not mad and neither am I. I don’t understand what she was trying to tell me. Perhaps she knew her time with me had ended.”

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart. “Could I have a cup of water?”

Brennan nodded and called Cassie to help. She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her father’s forehead.  Cassie followed her brother out into the hall but returned calling for her father’s attention. “If you could see your life from start to finish–would you change it?”

“No, Cassie. Not a single moment,” Cullen replied. A new sadness took hold. _Cassie, not you too._

“Neither would I. But Mother. . .I think she fought hard to find you and us.”  A deep sigh fell along with her words. “I love you, Papa.”

Cullen smiled. “And I you, Cassie- always.”

Listening for her steps on the stairs Cullen closed his eyes. The weight Valerie’s memory grew with the sound of each step echoing through the empty house. His lungs grew heavier with each breath, and sharp pains originated from his knees stretching throughout his muscles.  He felt no fear, no struggle, new warmth spread through him, taking his concerns and needs away. _This is peace_ , he thought letting it carry him further away from his body. 


	12. Hour Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision must be made. Will Cullen become a Templar or seek out a different future?

Cullen coughed, trying to catch his breath, sharp slaps on his back. “That’s it Rutherford, breathe. It’s over. Can you tell me where you are?”

Bent at the waist, Cullen looked at his hands. No longer revealing decades of hard work, Cullen’s smooth hands found grounding in the stubble on his chin.  He straightened taking in a full breath before responding. “I’m in the Vigil Room, Knight Captain.”

“Good. What year is it?” The Knight Captain turned away from Cullen, hands clasped behind his back.

 _What year is it?_ Cullen thought _, it’s nine eighty-nine, right? No._ “Nine twenty-nine, Ser.” 

The Knight Captain did not turn around. “Are you sure, Rutherford?”  The question hung in the small room, Cullen separating reality from vision.

“Yes, Ser.  It’s the Dragon Age, Ser. The year is nine twenty-nine. My name is Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Ser.” Cullen stood at attention waiting for the next round of questions.

His superior slid a box onto a side table. “You have a decision to make. You can leave right now, return home or anywhere you wish to go without consequence.” He tapped the wooden box. Cullen had seen the rectangular shaped box slipped into the belongings of others. The brass clasp held the box lid tight, but the memory of owning the object filled his mind.

 _The clasp is untarnished_ , he mused turning the box over in his hands, _and the left hinge is intact. I broke it when I threw the box against the wall._ Cullen shook the vision from his head. “It’s not real,” Cullen spoke aloud, forgetting the Knight Captain’s presence.

“It’s all right, Rutherford.” A firm hand gripped his shoulder. “The Maker has revealed your path. Open the box and you accept what lies before you.”  

 _Don’t do it, Cullen_. Valerie’s voice screamed in his head.

He shut his eyes tight. _It’s not real. She’s not real._ Cullen felt a small hand tug on his tunic.

_Bears, Papa!_

Clutching the box in one hand, he pressed a clenched fist to his temple and swayed.  Cullen took steps toward the kneeler. _This is madness_. “I’m in the Vigil Room. This is real. These thoughts and images, why won’t they leave me?”

_I love you, Papa._

“Hang on, Rutherford, it’ll pass.” The Knight Captain opened the door and called for chairs and water. Cullen overheard only pieces of the hushed conversation.

“I had to wake him, eleven bloody hours.” The first voice spat, “none of the others lasted that long.”

The second voice responded, the sound swallowed by the corridor and approaching footsteps.

Straining to hear the conversation Cullen heard the first again, recognizing the Knight Captain.  
“Yes . . . Ser. I am aware. As for others? A few have reached eleven hours but most leave immediately after and I can’t speak to his plans, no.” 

Chairs scraped against stone and Cullen felt two men flank him helping him towards the chair. One of the Templars whispered in Cullen’s ear. “Take the lyrium. You’ll forget by sunrise.” 

_One more sunrise, Val._

A mug placed into Cullen’s free hand, felt warm. A fragrant smell of herbs wafted around, the soothing vapors prompting him to sip the warmed liquid. “You’ll go mad, otherwise.” The Templar offered once more before leaving the room. 

Cullen inhaled long and deep before sipping his drink again as the Knight Captain entered. Closing the door behind him, the Knight Captain pulled the second chair closer and sat. “Rutherford- Cullen. I can’t force you to take the lyrium draught. There are four vials within your box. You alone must decide. Know this. Once you start, you will never stop. The visions plaguing your mind will return stronger than they are now.”

The younger man opened his mouth to speak, but a raised hand stopped him. “Regardless of your choice, you are forbidden from speaking of your experience to anyone.  The lyrium will give you a reprieve from your visions, strengthen your abilities and build a resistance to magic in all its forms.  In this, your final moments of your vigil–you’re meant to be at peace with your decision. Do you know how to open the vial?”

Cullen nodded, it was simple, they’d found spent vials around the keep when he’d first arrived.

A loud rapping on the door pulled the Knight Captain into the hall once more. Cullen lifted the latch and clasped the small vial in his hand.

_Find me in Kirkwall._

“I can’t. This is who I am. The path is set. I’ll find you along the way.”  Cullen said, before removing the stopper and drinking the contents. The bitterness coated his tongue and throat, followed by the slow disintegration of the visions still floating in his thoughts.

Returning with several parchments, the Knight Captain continued pointing toward the empty vial. “I will assume by your action, you plan to remain and see your training through joining the Order.”

 “Yes, Ser,” Cullen said.

“I am afraid you will leave tomorrow at first light for Denerim. The Knight Commander believes you could be of service in the Chantry there.”

The image of a lake and a majestic tower rising high forced Cullen to speak out of turn. “Are you sure, Ser?” Cullen knew he could not go to Denerim.

The Knight Captain flipped through the papers, “I had included you in the men leaving for Kinloch Hold. It’s the Ferelden Circle Tower.” The Knight Captain took in the eagerness of the young man sitting before him.  “If I allowed you to choose, Rutherford, which would you select?”

“If I may, Ser. I would like the Circle assignment. I could offer more at Kinloch than a Chantry. The Circle would provide far more opportunity to serve the Order.”

The Knight Captain paused. “I see, prefer mages to the Sisters of the Chantry?”

Cullen stammered. “No Ser. That’s not what I meant.”

“Relax, Rutherford. I don’t see a need for you to hold up a Chantry door. You’ll go to Kinloch Hold as planned.” The Knight Captain stood, pushing the chair against the wall. “Return to your bunk. Rest well, Ser Cullen. Maker watch over you.” 

Cullen took to the opposite direction, heading towards the barracks, his elation growing as the lyrium worked through him. Images faded with his steps. Fragrant gardens and golden fields at harvest faded into torchlight. Fanciful tales of great battles and epic foes reduced to remnants of thought.  Climbing into his bunk without stopping to undress, lulled by a fading memory of soft, warm skin next to his.

Sleep claimed him as the remnants of a life yet to unfold dissolved in a lyrium induced haze; replaced by the knowledge that he was now a Templar.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this study of Cullen came from the movie 'Arrival', had to change the premise of course. But the big question: if you could see your life from start to finish would you change it, was suggested by the movie. Thanks for reading. Thus concludes Val and Cullen's journey. (Until something else screams to be written)


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